


quiero enseñarte lo que te has estado perdiendo

by montecarlos



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Seatgate mentioned, Temporary Amnesia, well mostly some things have been twisted lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-24 09:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: “What the fuck do you mean my husband?” He glares at Eric, who sighs heavily.“You are married,” Eric says, glaring at the other Honda rider.“What? To Lorenzo?” Dani asks, feeling slightly light-headed.





	quiero enseñarte lo que te has estado perdiendo

**Author's Note:**

> This monster of a fic, because I am a useless tosser who cannot write small compact little fics and must write a novel instead is for the lovely Jazz. Happy birthday my bro, I know you've already seen some of this but I kept the main plot point away from you as a surprise. I hope you enjoy this small gift as a token of appreciation for your friendship and all the mental conversations we have. I love you lots bro!
> 
> Bit of housekeeping on the fic itself: I've only just started watching MotoGP recently, so some of this is lifted from my research. Some elements have been twisted - such as podium finishes etc to fit the story, but I've tried to stay quite close to reality for most of it. The fic is set around Mugello 2018. Italics are memories. I must warn y'all, there's a little bit about Marco Simoncelli's death in this fic, since it's memories between 2011 until the present day. Title is from the song Desire by Years and Years, it means "I want to show you what you've been missing" but in Spanish because I am extra like that.

Dani doesn’t remember much. He knows he’s in a hospital, he can feel the scratchy sheets against his battered body and the dull ache of the needle somewhere in his elbow, the medication barely taking off the edge. He blinks a few times, trying to think about the last thing he remembers. He recalls his bike bucking underneath him, the brake lever jamming against his gloves, the curses that brush from his lips as he hits the gravel trap, and then darkness.  
  
“Dani,” A familiar voice interrupts the silence. Eric comes into view - but he looks different, older even. Dani doesn’t remember him even coming to the race. “Dani, you’re awake,”  
  
“What happened?” Dani shifts slightly, wincing as the pain rips through his shoulder. “Please say I haven’t fractured my collarbone again,”  
  
“The doctors just said it’s badly bruised, and you hit your head pretty hard too,” Eric says, his eyes full of worry as he rakes his gaze over his injured brother.  
  
Dani bites down on his lip, trying not to think back to France last year. He doesn’t want to go through all that surgery to get it fixed again. “What about the championship?”  
  
Eric’s worry turns to confusion. “What do you mean, Dani?”  
  
“Me and Lorenzo,” Dani says. “Am I still in the title fight?”  
  
Dani can see the expression in Eric’s eyes, he knows that something isn’t quite right. He doesn’t get to press his brother further however, before the younger man has disappeared out of the room as quickly as his feet can carry him. He appears a few minutes later with a doctor and Dani is faced with a similarly concerned and calculated expression. The doctor settles down in the chair next to Dani’s bed. “Hello, I’m here to just conduct a little routine assessment,”  
  
Dani can see through the charade but remains silent.  
  
“Can you tell me your full name?”  
  
Dani glances over at Eric, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Daniel Pedrosa Ramal but everyone calls me Dani,”  
  
The doctor nods once, marking something on the chart. “And can you tell me what your occupation is?”  
  
“I’m a MotoGP rider, I race for Repsol Honda,” Dani tries to catch Eric’s eye, to make him know that this is totally unnecessary. He just wants to know if the collarbone injury is a fracture and if it’s going to impact his title hopes.  
  
“Can I ask you how old you are, Dani?”  
  
“I’m 25,” Dani says, watching the doctor’s gaze flicker over his chart. They show no emotion but it’s painted all over Erics face. Dani knows something is wrong, but his brother remains silent.  
  
“And can you tell me what year it is, Dani?”  
  
Dani frowns. “It’s 2010,”  
  
The doctor’s pen stops on the paper and Eric turns white at Dani’s words. “Pardon?” The doctor says, softly.  
  
Dani lets out a sigh of exasperation. “It’s 2010, god what is wrong with you all? Is this some kind of joke?”  
  
The expressions he is given in return make it seem like anything but a joke.

* * *

  
_ Retrograde amnesia_. The doctor’s expression is sympathetic, but Dani feels numbed by the news. He has woken up to find he’s lost eight years of his life and there’s no guarantee that he will ever claim back the memories.  
  
Dani asks for a mirror. He needs to examine his own face, he needs the proof that he is no longer 25. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t get much confirmation. He looks relatively the same - hair still dark as ever, bruises blossoming against his bronze skin. There’s a few more wrinkles around his eyes, but other than that, he looks the same as he did when he was 25.  
  
“It’s 2018,” Eric explains calmly. “You’re 32, you still ride for Honda in MotoGP,” He holds Dani’s expression as though it will suddenly trigger something that will unleash the hidden memories. Dani nods once. At least he’s still at Honda - that’s one less thing to worry about - but the rest of his life is still a blur.  
  
“Anything else I need to know? Am I married or something?” Dani jokes, a small smile painting his lips. He barely manages to see the panic in Eric’s eyes, his face paling at Dani’s words before the door is flung open.  
  
“Dani! Oh god, we were so worried!” Dani finds himself face to face with Marc Marquez. But this isn’t the Marc that Dani remembers. His last memory is one of a slip of a kid in 125cc. Marc isn’t that anymore. He is still short, but there’s much more muscle than Dani remembers, he’s grown into himself and looks older. His leathers are a familiar orange and white. _ Honda_. He wonders what happened to Dovi. But eight years is a long time, he’s surprised he’s still at Honda. Marc’s not alone, however. Valentino is by his side, looking dramatically older than the last time Dani saw him, despite still wearing his Yamaha leathers. Dani notices their hands are clasped together, and he did not see that coming at all.   
  
“When did you get so old?” Dani directs his question towards Valentino, watching the italian’s expression flicker in confusion. “And when did you start dating jailbait?”  
  
Valentino raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? Did you hit your head or something?”  
  
Marc moves over to the side of the bed, dragging Valentino along by the hand. “Don’t worry, Jorge is his way-”  
  
Dani feels the confusion wash over him. He only knows one Jorge and they’re barely on speaking terms as far as he remembers. “What? Why is Jorge on his way?”  
  
“Because he’s your husband,” Marc says, simply, ignoring Eric’s glare and barely noticing Dani’s face pale at the information.  
  
“_What? _ ” Dani murmurs out, staring between the three men standing by his bed. “What the fuck do you mean my husband?” He glares at Eric, who sighs heavily.  
  
“You are married,” Eric says, glaring at the other Honda rider.  
  
“What? To Lorenzo?” Dani asks, feeling slightly light-headed. However, before he can get a straight answer out of anyone, as though drawn to the sound of his own name, Jorge Lorenzo bursts through the double doors of Dani’s room.  
  
“Oh god, Dani,” Jorge murmurs, his green eyes falling on the Spaniard. “Fucking hell, I was so worried,” He immediately crosses the room, fumbling to grab hold of Dani’s hand.  
  
Dani glances over the younger man, noticing two things almost immediately - Jorge isn’t wearing Yamaha leathers, he’s wearing the familiar red and white of Ducati, and the other is the thin silver band decorating his ring finger.  
  
He feels sick just looking at it. Jorge stares at him with concern in those deep pools, his hand brushing back Dani’s hair. “Dani? Are you alright?”  
  
Dani bites down on his lip. The last time that Jorge had looked at him, Dani could see the hatred in his eyes, now he’s staring at Dani with tenderness he didn’t think was possible to see in the Majorcan. “Is this like some kind of joke?”  
  
Jorge fixes him with a grave expression. “What are you talking about, babe?”  
  
_ Babe _ . The word chills Dani’s bones as his eyes lock again on the thin ring on Jorge’s finger, a finger that looks shorter than his others, like he’s had some sort of injury. “I didn’t think you would go this low, Lorenzo,”  
  
Jorge stiffens at the tone of voice. “What’s going on? Dani? What’s wrong?” He leans in, his hand cupping Dani’s cheek so tenderly. This isn’t the Jorge that Dani remembers. He only remembers angry glances, shoves from the end of parc ferme, forced handshakes and eyes surveying him with what he knows to be hatred. It’s confusing. Jorge looks older, his hair has completely grown out from the buzzcut that Dani remembers, softer almost -  
  
Dani shakes his head. He’s been taken in by Jorge so many times before now. He can’t keep doing it to himself. “Don’t touch me,” He cries out, pulling away from Jorge’s warm grasp. “Why are you even here? What kind of sick joke is this?”  
  
“What’s going on?” Jorge asks, hurt spreading across his features. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Jorge, you better come outside with me,” Eric says quietly.  
  
“Why? What’s wrong with Dani?” Jorge’s voice slowly raises, and there’s a flicker of the Jorge that Dani knows well.  
  
“Just come outside with me, Jorge,”  
  
“I’m not leaving Dani!” Jorge snaps, his eyes darkening with anger. “There’s obviously something wrong with him and I’m not leaving him alone-”  
  
Dani finally has had enough. “Get out,” He bellows out and everyone stops, staring at the smaller man still lying in the bed. Dani feels wetness against his cheeks. “Just everyone leave me alone, I can’t cope-”  
  
Eric finally takes charge, ordering Valentino and Marc out of the room. Jorge takes a little more persuasion, but he’s finally pulled from the room, leaving Dani alone to process his thoughts. Is Jorge trying to get one over on him again? Pretending that they’re married? But Eric wouldn’t lie to him, would he? Dani glances down at his finger, frowning as he finds it bare. There’s nothing on his finger, other than a ring of paler skin where a ring would sit - _ oh _ .  
  
He doesn’t remember much after that, sinking back into darkness.

* * *

  
“Amnesia?” Jorge says, collapsing into the chair, his legs unable to hold him upright. He glances up at Eric, shock painting over his features. “He’s lost his memory?”  
  
“He thinks it’s 2010,” Eric continues, his expression still a grave one. “He thinks-”  
  
“He thinks we hate one another,” Jorge murmurs, pushing a hand through his hair, his ring shining in the bright light of the hospital corridor. “Fuck, is the damage permanent?”  
  
“The doctors think that in time, his memories will return as his brain heals from the trauma,” Eric says, offering a sympathetic pat to Jorge’s other hand, fisting into the front of his leathers in frustration. “But until then, we have to be wary of overloading him with information,”  
  
Jorge tugs at his hair in frustration. “So I have to act like I don’t know him?”  
  
“I’m not saying that, Jorge. I am just saying that you have to be mindful of how Dani is feeling. In his mind, he’s still in his twenties and the last memories he has of you are when he was battling you in 2010. It’s a lot to take in,”  
  
Jorge curses under his breath as he glances down at his hand, the ring still shining innocuously. He remembers the day that Dani had slid it onto his finger, his wide smile and the laugh that pulled itself from Dani’s lips as they were pronounced husbands. “What are we going to do?”  
  
“Well, he’s got to stay in hospital for a day or two so they can monitor him-” Eric begins, only to stop halfway through. “Oh, you mean after that?”  
  
“He won’t come back to Lugano with me,” Jorge says, sighing.  
  
“He can always stay with me,” Valentino pipes up. “In Tavullia,”  
  
“At the Ranch? Seriously, Vale?” Jorge glances over at his former teammate. “Shouldn’t he be with me? He’s _ my husband _ ,”  
  
“But he could feel overwhelmed. I mean, you have that fucking ridiculous massive photo of you two on your wedding day in your lounge. He’s going to be constantly bombarded with reminders of the fact he’s married to you,”  
  
“You weren’t even close to Dani in 2010,”  
  
“Closer than you were,” Valentino says, his gaze meeting Marc’s. “Beside, Marc would be there too,”  
  
“He thinks Marc is into Moto3,” Jorge hisses under his breath. “This is such a mess,” He pushes a hand through his hair again. “I don’t want to leave him, we’ve not been apart for years. I want him to stay with me in our home,”  
  
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Valentino asks, his blue eyes fixed on Jorge.  
  
“I don’t have a better one,” Jorge mutters, his fingers fiddling with the ring that has been on his finger for three years. “He moved in with me permanently after we got engaged,” He glances towards the door. “I’m worried, what if he doesn’t get better?”  
  
“He will,” Marc chips in, sounding strangely mature for once. “It’s _ Dani_,”  
  
And that thought does warm Jorge’s heart.  
  
Jorge glances through the room’s double doors and sees Dani sound asleep, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted, his chest slowly rising and falling. His fingers twist his ring around on his finger as he bites down on his lip.  
  
“I’m going to speak to the doctors,” Eric declares, patting his brother-in-law on the shoulder.  
  
“We should get off soon too,” Marc suddenly announces to Valentino, his hand slipping into the Italian’s. Jorge feels a pang of something at the sight of their entwined hands but he pushes it away to accept a hug from Marc and a supportive handshake from Valentino.  
  
“Promise me you’ll look after yourself,” Valentino murmurs against his ear. “You should go home too, you need some rest Jorge. You look like hell,”  
  
“Can’t sleep without him,” Jorge says, glancing back at his sleeping husband.  
  
Valentino gives Jorge a reassuring pat to the shoulder before he disappears with Marc, leaving Jorge alone. Jorge wastes no time re-entering the room, sinking into the chair next to Dani’s bed. He curls his hand around Dani’s limp one, pressing a light kiss to the bronze skin. Exhaustion soon claims the younger man and he slumps against the side of the bed, his hand still tangled in Dani’s.

* * *

  
Dani startles awake at the sound of the door opening. He can feel warmth curling around his left hand, but in his sleep-riddled mind, he can’t place the touch. Eric startles at seeing Dani awake.  
  
“Sorry, bro,” Eric looks apologetic. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just returning a few things-”  
  
“What things?” Dani asks, holding back a yawn. He glances to his side and sees Jorge slumped against the sheets, sound asleep, his hand curled in Dani’s.  
  
Eric bites down on his lip. “Just some jewellery of yours, had to be removed for the MRI, I don’t think you’ll want it-”  
  
Dani holds his hand out, wordlessly.  
  
Eric drops two rings of metal into his open palm. Dani glances at the first one for a moment, his fingers curling over the cool metal. It’s silver - the same as Jorge’s ring - and completely unassuming. It’s obviously his wedding ring, it’s twin sits on Jorge’s finger. Dani turns it around in his fingers, eyes roving over the metal carefully. He carefully places it on the bedside table, before glancing at the other ring. This ring doesn’t look familiar to him either. The band is again, silver and the clear diamond shimmers in the dim light of the hospital room. It’s the biggest diamond that Dani has ever seen. He can’t imagine himself wearing this at all -  
  
“He proposed to you,” Eric says, glancing at the sleeping Majorcan. “And I know you’re looking at it like why on earth would he give me this engagement ring?”  
  
Dani smiles. Eric still knows him well.  
  
“But you wore it proudly on your finger, because he picked it out for you. He does love you so much, I know you don’t believe me right now, but he does-”  
  
Dani nods once, glancing down at the ring still glittering in the dim lights.  
  
_ “Fucking hell, Pedrosa,” Valentino’s eyes fix on the giant diamond sitting on his ring finger. “No wonder the bike was pulling to the left so much-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Fuck off,” Jorge’s voice sounds out to the left of him, his hand curling around Dani’s shoulders. “You’re just jealous,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Why on earth would you give that ring to Dani? I mean, Dani is the quietest and most unassuming one of us - and you give him that rock to wear-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I want to show him off,” Jorge says, with a smirk. “Wait until you see what I have planned for his wedding ring-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You two sicken me,” Valentino says, shaking his head. _ _  
_ _  
_ “Dani,” _  
_ _  
_ Dani blinks at the sound of his own name, Eric’s concerned glance roving over his face. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I think - I think I just remembered _ something_,”

* * *

Dani frustratingly doesn’t remember anything else the next morning, he awakens with the rings still clutched in his palm. Jorge stirs at his elbow, groaning loudly as he slowly awakens from his sleep.  
  
“Good morning,” He murmurs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.  
  
“Morning,” Dani whispers back, pulling his hand away from Jorge’s as though his touch will burn. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Jorge rubs his hand over his beard, the expression is clearly painted across his face. He looks hurt at Dani’s rejection. “Did you sleep well?”  
  
“Why are you here, Jorge?” Dani asks again, his voice barely even as his dark brown eyes lock with green.  
  
“I was worried about you,” Jorge murmurs, fiddling with the wedding ring still decorating his finger. “Am I not allowed to be?”  
  
“Jorge,” Dani begins with a sigh. “I told you to leave-” He’s cut off as Jorge grabs hold of his hand once more, holding it with another force to bruise.  
  
“Please, Dani, please,” Jorge almost sounds like he’s begging Dani to _ just remember_. “Please, if you remember anything, please let it be me,”  
  
Dani bites down on his lip and feels the metallic taste of blood bubble up on his tongue. “Jorge,” - and it’s still strange to call him that and not Lorenzo - “I don’t remember you as someone I love,” He whispers, wincing as Jorge’s hand squeezes against his own.  
  
Jorge chokes back a sob as Dani opens up his other hand, revealing the two rings still clutched in his palm. He reaches over and presses the two rings into Jorge’s fist. It doesn’t feel right wearing them at this moment, not when he can’t remember the reason he was wearing them in the first place. Jorge’s face crumples at the action, the tears slowly falling down his cheeks as his finger closes slowly around the two rings.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dani whispers, glancing down at their clasped hands. “I was hoping that I would remember something - but, I don’t remember anything,”  
  
“It will be okay, I promise,” Jorge cuts through the silence, shaking Dani’s hand. “You can stay at our home, back in Lugano,”  
  
“Lugano? I live in Barcelona,” Dani whispers, trying to pull his hand away. “I’ve lived there since I got into MotoGP,”  
  
“We moved in together after we got engaged,” Jorge says, allowing the Spaniard to once again wrench his hand free, hating the emptiness in his chest at being unable to touch Dani. “You moved to Geneva back in 2012, then we moved into our apartment together about a year later. You were so mad you had to sell it-”  
  
Dani’s head is spinning at Jorge’s words.  
  
“Dani, Dani, are you alright?” Jorge’s concern fades out and gives way to another memory.  
  
_ “Are you sure you want to move in together? I mean, I’m a lot of work,” Jorge says in a teasing tone. “Last chance to back out,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani laughs. “I’m not backing out of this, and you make it sound like I’m stuck with you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Well, you kinda have been since 125cc,” Jorge smirks and moves closer to the shorter man, his arms curling over Dani’s shoulders. “You know I can’t believe how lucky I am?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I can’t believe you made me sell my apartment to move here, Geneva would have been better,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “But everyone would know who you are in Geneva, Lugano is much more private,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “And my place didn’t have a walk-in closet big enough for all of your clothes,” Dani says with a small smile. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Well, that is partly true,” Jorge beams back at him, leaning in to press a kiss against Dani’s lips. “I love you-” _ _  
_ _  
_ “Dani, Dani!” A gentle tug against his shoulder forces him back to the present. “Dani, are you okay?”  
  
Concerned green eyes swim in front of him, Jorge’s hands - rough and calloused from the bike - gently cup his face. “Dani?”  
  
Dani slowly moves his hands up to push Jorge’s fingers away from his skin. “I’m fine,”  
  
“You zoned out,” Jorge says, the hurt expression still painting his face.  
  
“I remembered something,” Dani murmurs out, blinking a few times to clear his vision. “I told you that my apartment didn’t have a walk-in closet-”  
  
“Big enough for my clothes,” Jorge finishes. “You _ remembered_,”  
  
His face lights up at the mere realisation and Dani feels something tug inside his chest at Jorge’s smile.  
  
“I don’t remember anything else,” Dani replies quickly and Jorge’s smile dims for what feels like a millisecond, before it reappears.  
  
“It’s okay, you remembered something,” Jorge, his hand subconsciously drifting towards Dani’s face once more. Dan stiffens, his teeth pressing down on his lip as he surveys those same dark green eyes he remembers so well...only now, they seem to be darker, and holding an expression that Dani can’t place. “I’m sorry,” Jorge murmurs. “I’m just used to touching you-”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dani whispers and Jorge nods in understanding, but there’s something in his eyes that says otherwise.

* * *

  
Dani wakes up what feels like a few hours later, to find his hand strangely cold and Jorge absent. He groans under his breath, blinking back the sleep as he surveys the room. Valentino looks up from his phone with a small smile.  
  
“I sent Jorge home, he needs some proper food and sleep,” The Italian man says, his blue eyes slowly surveying Dani. “He’s been here since your accident,”  
  
Dani looks carefully at Valentino. On the surface, he doesn’t look much different - his hair is cropped as it was back then, and there’s a fair few more wrinkles lining the corners of his eyes. “So you’re babysitting then?”  
  
Valentino smirks, letting out a low laugh. “Well, I figured you seeing Marc would just confuse you. Besides, Jorge would not leave so Marc had to say he would make him the famous paella a Márquez,”  
  
Dani smiles. It’s nice just to hold a normal conversation with someone, not having to worry about remembering anything. “So you and Marc? How old is he now, 19?”  
  
Valentino’s cheeks turn pink. “He is 25 now, with a hell of a lot more championships,” There’s an expression on his face that Dani can’t quite place. “It’s complicated,”  
  
“How can it be complicated? I remember the kid meeting you for the first time,” Dani frowns, thinking about the memory. Marc wasn’t much younger than the one that Dani remembers. “What happened?”  
  
Valentino worries his lip. “It’s a long story, and not a nice one to tell,”  
  
“I’ve got time,” Dani says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Valentino surveys him carefully, before he bites back a laugh. “You might have lost eight years of your life but you’re still the Dani I know,” He grins. “Marc has been your teammate since 2013, we got on great at first, then in 2015 at Sepang happened and he was a dick and I was stupid-”  
  
“Well, there’s nothing new there,” Dani says, rolling his eyes.  
  
Valentino smiles. “It’s taken us a year or two to get back to what we were before. Then one night he came over drunk and told me that he’d always loved me. I kissed him and well, here we are, a few years later,”  
  
“I don’t see a wedding ring,”  
  
A blush falls over the Italian’s pale cheeks. “I was going to ask him soon, but all of this has happened,”  
  
“You should ask him,” Dani says, watching Valentino carefully. 

“What if he says no?”  
  
“You _ have _ met Marc, yes?” Dani quirks an eyebrow.  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” Valentino replies with a smile. “So what about you? Remembered anything or still in shock you’re married to the most annoying prick in the paddock?”  
  
“I remember one or two things, like you judging my engagement ring,” Dani’s gaze flickers to Valentino for a moment. “But nothing concrete. I just don’t know what to do, it’s so difficult-” He pauses. “I’m just scared I’ll never remember and I don’t want to hurt Jorge,”  
  
Valentino pats his leg. “You will remember, you’re Dani Pedrosa for god's sake. You have recovered from just about everything and you’re a stronger man than me, actively making the decision to marry Jorge Lorenzo sober,”  
  
Dani laughs. “I don’t even know how we started dating,”  
  
“You both started to mellow out in 2012. You actually congratulated each other in Qatar at the beginning of the season and after that, you kinda became friends, I think you both grew up a bit after Sic passed-” He pauses, biting his lip.  
  
“Marco died?”  
  
Valentino’s expression is unreadable. “Yeah, in 2011. It was tough for the pair of you as I think you felt a little guilty, after that, you kinda put your differences aside. You started dating in 2012, then in 2014, Jorge proposed to you in front of the Magic Fountain. I helped him pick out your ring, well, I had to talk him out of getting you an even bigger diamond-”  
  
“It sounds so perfect when you say it like that,” Dani says, wistfully.  
  
“You got married a year later and you’ve been inseparable ever since,” Valentino finishes quietly. “I know it’s a lot to handle and I know you’re sick of people telling you how and what to feel, but honestly, I don’t think there’s two people more suited to each other than you two,”  
  
“I wish I could remember,” Dani murmurs, frustration heavy in his tone.  
  
“You will,” Valentino replies, patting Dani on the shoulder. “I have faith.”  
  
“Thanks, Vale,” Dani replies, and he really, truly means it.

* * *

  
Jorge arrives later that evening with a bouquet of red roses and a small, shy smile on his face that Dani wasn’t aware he was capable of showing. He lights up at the sight of Dani. “Sorry, I’m late, I slept for ages and Marc didn’t wake me, little bastard-”  
  
“It’s okay, I think you could do with the rest,” Dani says, noting the dark circles under Jorge’s eyes are significantly less pronounced. “Vale kept me company, anyways,”  
  
“I’m glad,” Jorge says, a small smile curling on his lips. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“The same,” Dani says with a sigh. “Still no sign of my memories. The doctors say I can be released tomorrow though,”  
  
“Isn’t that a little too soon?” Jorge’s expression is full of worry. “I mean, you did give yourself a brain injury-”  
  
“The doctor thinks my memory will improve by being in a setting I know well,” Dani says, his lip caught between his teeth. “He said it would be best for me to come home,”  
  
“To Lugano?”  
  
Dani nods, watching the smile brush over Jorge’s lips. “Do you want to?”  
  
“I am willing to give it a try, if that’s what you want,” Jorge’s hand finds Dani’s once more, and Dani finds himself once more staring at the ring shining on Jorge’s finger as the hospital walls fade away, giving way to another memory.  
  
_ “Have you come to gloat?” Dani says, glancing down at the younger man standing in the doorway of his motorhome. “Championship is yours now, surely,” He spits bitterly, his arm supporting his aching shoulder. It burns, almost taunting him that he will never win this championship. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Dani-” Jorge moves forward slowly. “It looked like a bad accident,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Just broke my collarbone again. Why are you even here, Jorge? Do you enjoy watching me in pain?" _

"_ You know I don't," Jorge murmurs quietly. “I don’t want to see you like that at all,” _

_ “So why are you here Lorenzo? Don’t tell me you’ve gone over all soft,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I was worried about you!” Jorge snaps, his green eyes almost black with anger. He moves closer to Dani, his eyes fixed on staring the shorter man down. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Why though? You never cared about me before!” Dani looks up, meeting Jorge’s angry gaze. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Because you’re so scared to let anyone in Dani!! You don’t want to let anyone near,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “How dare you presume anything about me, Lorenzo! You’ve always hated me and you’ve always taken pleasure in my pain, I hate yo-” He’s cut off by Jorge grabbing the front of his t-shirt as he slams their lips together. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge kisses like he races. It’s hard, passionate, frustrating. Dani can feel how tightly his fist is hooked into his t-shirt, Jorge’s lips rough against his own as his tongue slowly brushes over Dani’s lower lip. His other hand slowly moves to cup the back of Dani’s neck, his fingers tangling into thick, dark curls. Dani forgets where he is for a moment, and whose lips he is kissing before the realisation kicks in. Dani wrenches himself away from Jorge, breathing heavily as he tries not to stare at swollen lips. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What was that about?” Dani murmurs, his eyes wide. He kissed Jorge Lorenzo, his championship rival, his enemy- _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge shrugs, giving Dani that smirk that infuriates him so much. “Felt like it,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ But Dani can see through the facade. However, before he can question it, Jorge disappears, but not before he catches the streak of panic that crosses the handsome features of the Majorcan man. _ _  
_ _  
_ “Dani?” The same voice cuts through the memory and Dani jolts as those same olive green eyes that were so clear in his thoughts stare at him with concern. “Was it another memory?”  
  
Dani nods once. “I think it was our first kiss - you had your buzzcut and you were in Yamaha leathers - you looked like the Jorge I remember,”  
  
“France 2011,” Jorge says softly. “You chipped your right collarbone. I had a crush on you for ages, but I tried to push it away. I pretended to hate you because I was scared, but seeing you at the side of the track, and knowing that your title hunt was over-”  
  
“But you ran off after giving me a kiss,”  
  
“Dani, you might not know who I am now, but you remember how much of a dick I was when I was younger, surely?” Jorge smirks at his own memories, his hand automatically squeezing Dani’s. “I was an idiot. You chased after me and made me realise I was stupid for running away,”  
  
Dani sighs. “It doesn’t make sense though, how did we end up together?”  
  
“I stopped being an idiot,” Jorge smiles as he says the words. “Everything fell into place after that,”  
  
Dani wishes that things would begin falling into place for him. He stares down at his and Jorge’s entwined hands, wishing he remembered why he got into this situation.

* * *

  
Dani worries his lip as the car begins to slow. The journey back to Lugano was fairly straightforward, but there’s still an air of discomfort that he can’t shake off since leaving the hospital. He tells himself that it’s probably because he’s going home - the home that he shares with Jorge - and it will no doubt be filled with reminders of their lives together.  
  
“We’re here,” Jorge says with a small smile. Dani can see the inner fight within him not to grab hold of Dani’s hand like he usually does. “Home sweet home, well, just up those stairs,”  
  
Dani slowly undoes his seatbelt and moves away from the safety of the car, following Jorge into the elevator. The ride up to their apartment - and that’s weird in Dani’s head to think of it as _ their _ apartment - is silent and Dani wordlessly follows Jorge to a door with the number 11 on it. He wishes he could remember anything, but his mind remains blank.  
  
Jorge opens the door and allows Dani to step through first. Dani is surprised, almost immediately. The apartment is clean and tidy, the decor is light and airy and the large window offers a view of Lugano and the lake beyond. He places his jacket up next to one of Jorge’s hideous leather studded ones hanging on the rack before he glances around carefully. Dani spots one of Jorge’s helmets on one of the shelves, one of his own placed directly next to it. But it’s the large photo on the centre of the mantlepiece that makes his heart catch in his throat.  
  
It’s a photo of him and Jorge.  
  
Jorge follows his gaze. “That was taken on our wedding day,” He smiles sadly.  
  
Dani glances at the photo, feeling his heart flush against his ribcage. He looks happy, the photo taken whilst he’s laughing, Jorge’s arms curled around his shoulders, his face pressed against Dani’s cheek, their hands entwined, showing off their rings -  
  
Dani turns to Jorge in surprise. “Is that a white tux?”  
  
Jorge grins. “Of course, one of us had to wear white,” He gazes at the photo, and Dani catches the sadness in his green eyes. They do look happy, Dani can tell by the expression on his face, it’s not forced at all. “It was in Majorca,”  
  
“We look really happy,” Dani murmurs, his eyes flickering over the other photos lining the shelves. There’s another one of them, presumably from what looks like their engagement party, Jorge grinning widely at Dani as they are caught in mid-hug, their noses almost touching - they look so different. Dani doesn’t recognise himself in the photo.He looks like a completely different man, staring at Jorge with such love in his eyes-  
  
“Are you okay?” Jorge asks, softly. “Maybe it was a little soon for you to come back here,”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Dani murmurs, ripping his eyes away from the photographs taunting him. He glances around, spotting more signs of his and Jorge’s shared life together. There’s a pair of Jorge’s expensive looking, designer shoes bundled up next to a battered pair of motorcycle boots which Dani knows to be his own. His attention is drawn to the trophy cabinet, spotting his 250cc titles shining in the light, but there’s three telltale cylinders that Dani knows to be MotoGP champion trophies.  
  
Dani glances over at Jorge. “Did I ever win a championship?”  
  
Jorge hesitates for a moment. “I’ll show you the guest room, I figured you would be more comfortable in there for now,” He says, ushering Dani away from the trophy cabinet. He ends up showing Dani the rest of the apartment - thankfully, skipping their bedroom - before they settle down to a feast of esqueixada, pa amb tom àquet and his favourite dessert, crema catalana all prepared by Jorge himself. Dani licks his spoon before settling it back into the pot.  
  
“I didn’t know you could cook,”  
  
Jorge smiles. “I learnt after we moved in together, you taught me,”  
  
“I did?” Dani raises an eyebrow.  
  
“I think you were sick of cooking for me,” Jorge chuckles, as he stands to clear the plates away. “You taught me during the holiday break, I got annoyed at you because I wanted to go out and race against you on dirt bikes,”  
  
That’s the Jorge that Dani remembers. He smiles gently, following Jorge to their kitchen - and it’s still strange to say such things - _ their kitchen _ . Dani watches Jorge fill up the dishwasher in silence, his eyes sliding over the strong tanned arms, the t-shirt clinging to every curve of his body -  
  
Dani stumbles back from the chair. “I’m going to bed,” He announces, turning on his heel before Jorge can protest.

* * *

  
Dani rubs a hand through his hair, glancing around the guest room. It looks fairly nondescript, the walls are free of photographs, with only Dani’s Honda leathers and Jorge’s Yamaha ones sitting neatly in frames above the bed. His thoughts are a complete mess. He searches through the remainder of his memories for the tiniest scrap of information, thinking back to Jorge’s panicked expression when he mentioned world championships. Does he have one? Surely he would remember something as big as that and Jorge would have shown him the trophy? 

He hisses under his breath as his finger snags on a loose curl, tears pricking up in the corners of his eyes. Jorge has done his best to make Dani feel welcome, but he still feels like this place is not his home. It feels wrong to be here. Dani finds himself curled up underneath the duvet, the fabric softener even reminding him of Jorge as he tries to drift off to sleep. Dreams eventually claim him and he sinks into an uneasy rest -  
  
_ “That was a good race,” Jorge says quietly, holding his hand out for Dani to grasp. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani is fully aware that there is a camera somewhere behind him, and begrudgingly accepts Jorge’s handshake, fighting the urge not to roll his eyes. He knows that Jorge is simply playing up for the cameras - eager not to have another PR nightmare like in Jerez when the king forced their hands together. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You’re not still angry at me are you?” Jorge’s voice is barely audible over the cheers that ring out from the podium. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You were the one who ran away, Jorge,” Dani begans, only for the Yamaha rider to disappear once again as his name is called. Dani’s name follows and he feels the smile crack over his face as the cheers wash over him. He climbs onto the top step of the podium, forgetting everything else, the pain, Jorge, everything. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s good to have you back, Dani,” Casey slaps his shoulder gently and Dani tries to ignore the burning tinge of his collarbone. “We missed you for the last three races,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Sure you did, Dani thinks, building your advantage against Lorenzo without me. It was a small mercy however, to have Casey standing on the top step and not _ _ him _ _ . But he pastes on his best smile and allows the swell of the Spanish national anthem to wash over him. He never tires of hearing it. He smiles and waves, careful not to jostle his collarbone too much, it’s too aching from the exertion of the race before the bottle of champagne is delivered to his hands and the last thing he sees is Jorge Lorenzo’s smile through the foam and cava stinging his eyes. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge turns up outside his motorhome later that evening, sucking on a lollipop and wearing his ever present grin. “Bona tarda,” He says as a way of greeting as he pushes past Dani. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What are you doing here?” Dani snaps at the Majorcan’s back. “Haven’t you got someone else to annoy?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I came to apologise,” Jorge says, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth with a plop. “For what I did in Le Mans,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Are you apologising for running away or for kissing me again?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Dani, just listen to me-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Like you listened to me?” Dani snarls, his dark eyes fixed on the younger man. “It’s always what you want isn’t it? World Champion Jorge Lorenzo gets whatever he wants!” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Dani, that’s unfair,” Jorge says, throwing the lollipop away. “Just let me explain. I couldn’t get near you in Mugello to explain-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’ve been off for a month, you could have called me!” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Would you have answered, really?” Jorge’s gaze locks with Dani’s own. “I’m sorry for running away, but I’m not sorry for kissing you again,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge-” Dani begins, but Jorge is closing in, his body pressing Dani against the wall, his breath slowly fanning out across Dani’s cheek. “Jorge,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dark green eyes meet brown. “Dani,” Jorge murmurs as he cups Dani’s face, bringing their lips together again. This time, it’s slower, almost tender. Dani feels his eyes slide close as Jorge’s hand moves to twist into his sweaty curls, his scratchy stubble rubbing against his chin. “Oh god, Dani-” Jorge murmurs against his lips - _

_Jorge’s other hand moves down to Dani’s leathers, fingers dancing past the zip, about to slip beneath the layers when Dani wrenches his lips away - _ _  
_

_“What’s wrong?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I can’t do this,” Dani says, shaking his head. “I can’t do it,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Dani-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Just leave me alone, please,” Dani murmurs, trying to ignore the tears pricking up in the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t know exactly why he’s pushing Jorge away, but he can’t bring himself to let the Majorcan in. Jorge sighs heavily but says nothing, turning on his heel and leaving Dani alone with his thoughts as the door slams. _ _  
_ _  
_ Dani wrenches awake at the warm touch curling around his collarbone, the collarbone that has since healed up, he notes. Jorge sits at the side of the bed, wearing a look of concern and not much else. Dani feels his cheeks turn pink at the sight of Jorge’s salmon pink boxer shorts.  
  
“Are you alright?” Jorge asks, and Dani glances at the younger man, feeling the guilt surge through him at the dark circles under Jorge’s eyes and the ruffled hair.  
  
“Sorry, I was dreaming but it felt real, like another memory,” Dani murmurs, biting his lip.  
  
Jorge pushes a hand through his mussed hair. “Well, do you want to tell me what happened?”  
  
“Casey Stoner was my teammate and he congratulated me for winning the race, and I was horrible to you because you’d run off after kissing me-”  
  
Jorge chuckles. “That wasn’t my finest moment. I thought you’d never forgive me,”  
  
“And we argued in my motorhome and then we kissed again but I pushed you away and I don’t understand why I did that,” Dani whispers. “It’s just - so overwhelming, to have my memories come back this way, I don’t even know how we even got married, 2011 seems even worse than what I can remember,”  
  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jorge says quietly, moving closer to Dani. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed, you’re trying to remember eight years of memories,”  
  
Dani notices the silver chain hanging from Jorge’s neck. The two familiar rings tucked on the loop against his light golden skin - his wedding and engagement rings, pulled close to Jorge’s heart. Dani feels the nausea rise up within him at the sight of the jewellery gleaming gently against Jorge’s chest.  
  
“I just feel like I’m living someone else’s life,” Dani whispers, his hands fisting into the duvet. “Like I don’t understand why you love me and why we even got together,”  
  
“I know you’re frustrated,” Jorge says quietly, and he gently wipes away tears that Dani didn’t even realise he was shedding. “I get it completely, it’s hard for me too...to see you like this,”  
  
“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?” Dani says, the dark circles even more pronounced on Jorge’s pale skin.  
  
“Not since everything happened, and I can’t sleep without you most of the time-” Jorge pauses for a moment, worrying his lip. “Sorry, it’s not about me,”  
  
Dani pauses for a moment. “You should stay here with me,” He says, his voice soft and slow. “You need to rest,”  
  
Jorge hesitates. “Dani, I don’t know if that’s a good idea-”  
  
“Please,” Dani’s dark brown eyes fix on Jorge. “It might help you sleep, and I don’t feel pressured that we are not in our bed,”  
  
Jorge silently slides beneath the sheets, his warm skin gently brushing against Dani’s for a moment. The silence stretches between them, curling into the cooling summer air, the only sounds are that of their shallow breathing in unison and the rustle of the sheets.  
  
“This is strange,” Jorge breaks the silence. He turns on his side slowly, his hand cupping his face as he surveys Dani in the dim light of the room. “But thank you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you in this room, so close but so far away-” He pauses. “I’m sorry, I should shut up-”  
  
“It’s okay,” Dani murmurs, moving closer. “This must be difficult for you too…” He glances at Jorge. “It’s just frustrating because I feel like I’ve missed so much of my life, and everyone seems to know more about myself than I do,”  
  
“I get that,” Jorge says, his voice slow. Dani can’t stop his gaze flickering over Jorge’s plush lips and his pale skin, barely masked by the thin duvet. “But you’re starting to remember some things now, even if they seem like I hated you and you hated me,”  
  
“I never hated you though, Jorge,”  
  
“I know,” Jorge gives Dani a small smile. “We were stupid kids even in 2010, we were young and both wanted that first title - we didn’t care who we stood on to get to it. And I guess I was always jealous of you - you got to 250cc first and became the youngest champion there, you beat me to MotoGP. I think that’s why I was so shitty to you at first,”  
  
“Hey, I was a dick too,” Dani cuts in and they both let out a short laugh. “It’s just so weird because I remember all those times from when we were younger then there’s nothing and suddenly we’re married - how did that happen?”  
  
Jorge hesitates for a minute. “Dani, I don’t know if it’s the best thing to tell you-”  
  
“Please,” Dani whispers. “Please tell me,”  
  
“We got closer after Marco died. You were really cut up about it, because you hadn’t got on just before he passed, you came to my motorhome just wanting some support. I held you whilst you cried and that’s when I realised that I was sick of pushing you away. I asked you to give me a second chance, we kissed and well, things started from there,”  
  
“You make it sound so easy,”  
  
“I stopped being an idiot after everything that happened. I didn’t want the possibility of the same thing happening to you -” Jorge pauses for a moment. “And after that, we went from strength to strength. We had our arguments, we still do, but we have a better understanding of each other these days,”  
  
Dani wants to reply, but his eyes have been threatening to slide shut for the past ten minutes, soothed by Jorge’s warmth next to him. He hears the low familiar chuckle of the Majorcan man. “Sleep, Dani. We can talk more in the morning,”  
  
And so Dani does, falling under the veil of sleep. As he curls closer to Jorge unconsciously in his sleep, he doesn’t see the tiny smile on Jorge’s lips or the whisper of “I love you,” before Jorge joins him in sleep.

* * *

  
Dani wakes up the next morning to warmth pressing against the length of his back. He can feel light breath against his neck, and a warm arm slumped across his chest pulling him close. Instinctively, Dani knows it’s Jorge. He can feel the familiar feeling of Jorge’s erection pushing against the small of his back. However, as Dani slowly tries to edge away from the younger man, Jorge almost huffs at the sensation and curls in closer, his arms tightening around Dani’s stomach. Dani tries to push away the fluttering sensation of warmth deep in his stomach.  
  
“Jorge,” He murmurs softly, trying to pull himself away from the Majorcan’s grip. “Jorge-” He tries again, turning ever so slightly towards the sleeping man. Jorge’s brow wrinkles at the movement and a low groan pulls itself from between plush lips.  
  
“Jorge,” Dani moves in closer, trying to untangle himself when Jorge’s eyes slowly flutter open.  
  
“Huh?” Jorge murmurs sleepily, blinking back the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on? Let’s go back to sleep, babe,” He aims a sloppy kiss against Dani’s cheek, pulling the smaller man closer to him once more.  
  
“Jorge-” Dani tries again, but the younger man’s eyes have dropped once more, his breath tickling Dani’s t-shirt, his hand slowly moving underneath the thin piece of fabric. “Jorge, stop it. _ Jorge_,” He raises his voice enough to knock the Majorcan out of his slumber.  
  
Jorge glances at their close proximity, his cheeks colouring pink. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so used to cuddling like this with you,”  
  
“It’s okay,” Dani says, worrying his lip as Jorge moves away from him, the warmth drains quickly away from his side and Dani feels a stab of something in his chest for a moment as he gazes into dark green eyes. He can’t pull his attention away from Jorge for what feels like a lifetime, his tongue darting to his lips as Jorge follows its path-  
  
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Valentino’s voice cuts through the heavy silence.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jorge murmurs, his eyes shifting to where the Italian is stood in the doorway, arms folded and looking smug. “I told you that key was for emergencies,”  
  
“And this is an emergency, you’ve not been home properly since Dani’s accident and Marc noticed that your fridge was a little empty so me and the little darling did some shopping so you can give your sick husband a proper breakfast,”  
  
“I’m not sick,” Dani murmurs from the sheets, sending a look he hopes reads as frustration.  
  
Valentino cocks his head slightly. “God, you two are so cute together, honestly,”  
  
Jorge throws one of the pillows beneath them in Valentino’s direction, hearing a soft cackle before the Italian turns on his heel. “I’ll give you kids five minutes to get dressed before breakfast is ready!”  
  
“So much for that quiet morning together?” Jorge sighs, pushing himself upright and sliding out from beneath the sheets. Dani feels the same sensation twist in his chest as he watches Jorge cross the room, still wearing nothing but those salmon-pink boxer shorts. Dani feels the cool floorboards underneath his feet as he slides out from beneath the sheets, the warmth of him and Jorge soon claimed by the morning air.

* * *

  
“Buenos dias,” Marc chirps, slurping coffee from a cup Dani is sure belongs to him, if the ornate flowing script of the letters DLP are anything to go by. “Did you sleep well?”  
  
Dani stares at the younger man, a man who is now in his twenties and possesses five MotoGP titles. He’s still as baby-faced as Dani remembers, but the stockiness of his shoulders and the muscles on view through his tight t-shirt are a clearer indication of how he has grown.  
  
“Of course he did, curled up with Jorge like old times,” Vale says with a smirk, as he deposits a cup of freshly brewed coffee at Dani’s elbow. A plate of torrijas, piled high with cinnamon and honey also appears on the table.  
  
“Don’t worry, I made them. Can’t trust Vale with Spanish cooking,” Marc winks as he pulls Valentino down next to him, their hands interlacing over the table top.  
  
“Wouldn’t trust Vale with most things,” Jorge drawls, making his presence known as he slinks into the kitchen. His eyes meet Dani’s for a moment before he moves over to the coffee pot. Dani finds himself staring at the younger man, at the sliver of skin exposed as he leans up to collect a cup from the cupboard.  
  
“So, did you remember anything else?” Marc presses, bouncing excitedly. “That’s why you and Jorge shared a bed right?”  
  
“Not much,” Dani begins, worrying his lip.  
  
“Do you remember anything about me? I know for you, I must still be a teenager-”  
  
“Let the man have his coffee, Marc,” Jorge slides into the seat next to Dani as he takes a sip of his own. _ The Boss _ is written on the side of the porcelain in what looks like the font that Valentino uses on his leathers.  
  
“Aren’t those the cups I got you for your wedding anniversary?” Valentino asks, smirking at the cup in front of Dani.  
  
“Only useful thing you bought us,” Jorge says, shaking his head as Dani surveys the cup he hadn’t noticed before. _ The Actual Boss _, the blocky identical font reads. 

“You’ve got the right cup,” Valentino winks, but Dani barely hears him as the kitchen fades away, giving away to another memory. 

_ Dani can only glare at the Doctor lettering on the back of Vale’s leathers as the older man leans in to pull Jorge into a congratulatory hug from the top step of the podium. Dani’s collarbone still aches, still mobilised by the sling it’s been in since Motegi. He feels numb watching Jorge beaming on the second step, a world champion before himself. Dani ignores the twist of jealousy bubbling up as he turns on his heel, unable to watch the rest of the celebrations. He chooses to go back to his motorhome, cursing his own decision to fly to Malaysia. He knew he wasn’t going to be fit enough. Slamming the door, he allows himself to slowly sink into the couch, thoughts running through his head. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge did it before I did. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ What if I wasn’t injured- _ _  
_ _  
_ _ A series of hard, demanding knocks ends the silence. Dani slowly rises, careful of the ache in his shoulder, to a beaming Jorge Lorenzo standing on the doorstep of the motorhome, still in his Yamaha leathers and clutching his magnum of champagne. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What are you doing here?” Dani snaps, his dark eyes fixed on the younger man, the new champion of MotoGP his brain supplies, and that fact still stings. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Came to let you congratulate me,” Jorge says, the smirk dancing over the corner of his lips as he brushes past Dani, the smell of champagne, motor oil and sweat dancing over Dani’s nose. “But the better man won, eh?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You really are going to rub it in aren’t you? If I wasn’t injured-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I might not have done it sooner, but we both know I was always going to beat you-” Dani can bear no more taunting. He knows he shouldn’t, not with his injury, but he can’t help it. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge hisses as Dani punches him in the face. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I hate you,” Dani whispers, watching the blood bubble up from the side of Jorge’s lip. “I hate you,” He goes for another blow but Jorge catches his hand, his eyes darker than their usual green. “Let go of me, can’t you go celebrate with people who care?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Why can’t you just congratulate me? Everyone else has,” Jorge says, his fingers tightening around Dani’s wrist. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Why is it that important? You hate me-” Dani begins, only for Jorge to surge forward, forcing the younger man up against the wall of his motorhome, his lips brushing against Dani’s. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge tastes of champagne and blood. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ His slightly chapped lips press against Dani’s as though he’s seeking approval. Dani lets himself fall for a moment, his lips gliding over Jorge’s as a groan pushes out from between his lips, the metallic taste of Jorge’s blood lingering on his mouth. Dani suddenly realises what he’s doing. He shoves Jorge away, as roughly as he can, panting as he surveys the younger man. Dani wipes his mouth frantically, as though to erase the taste of Jorge. “What the fuck was that?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “A kiss, Pedrosa. You never had one of those before?” Jorge smirks. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Fuck you,” Dani spits. “Get the fuck out,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Thanks for the congratulations,” Jorge winks, his bloody mouth twisting into a smile. _ _  
_ _  
_ “Dani? Dani, are you alright?” Jorge’s voice calls him back to the present and he jolts out of the memory to find Jorge standing by his side, with worry on his face, his lip all healed. Valentino and Marc sit opposite, also wearing worried expressions on their faces. “Another memory?”  
  
Dani nods. “I punched you in the face,”  
  
Valentino snorts, breaking the silence. “Did you? Can you do it again, I’d pay good money to see that-” He is cut off by Marc fixing him with a look.  
  
“That was 2010,” Jorge murmurs quietly. “The year I won my first MotoGP title,”  
  
“And he punched you in the face?” Valentino says in incredulation, breaking the silence settling over the table. “God, I’d have loved to see that,”  
  
Jorge glowers at his ex-teammate across the table. “It fucking hurt,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dani murmurs softly, turning his gaze towards Jorge.  
  
“It’s okay, it was a long time ago,” Jorge says, his tone is equally as soft as he fiddles with his wedding ring. “I was a dick back then anyways,”  
  
“Back then?” Valentino smirks, downing the rest of his coffee as Jorge glares at him.  
  
“Your memory must be a bit hazy, old man,” Jorge fires back. “What with your boyfriend being on the baby bikes,” He smirks at their linked fingers resting on the table and the smudges of redness that take over Valentino’s cheeks.  
  
“So you’re remembering some things now?” Marc asks Dani, his mouth full of torrija.  
  
“Bits and pieces. Some things from 2010 and 2011,” Dani replies, his attention drawn once more to Jorge. "So I didn't win in 2010 because of my injury?"

Dani catches the panicked glances exchanged between Valentino and Jorge, as fleeting as they are. "Pretty much, yeah," Jorge says, worrying his lip. 

"What about the years after that? Surely, I won at some point right?" Dani asks, his dark eyes focused on the man he calls his husband - and that is still a strange concept to him - to be _married to Jorge. _

“Dani, we’re not supposed to overload you with information-” Jorge says delicately, suddenly finding his coffee cup interesting.  
  
“Why can’t you just tell me when I won a championship?” Dani snaps, feeling his cheeks heat up in anger. “I’m not a baby, I can handle things. I’m 25 years old-”  
  
Jorge’s eyes widen at Dani’s words. “Dani, you’re not 25-”  
  
Dani can feel three concerned gazes locked on him. He can feel their pity, their anxiety - and he wants none of it. The only sound is that of his chair scraping against the tiles in the kitchen as he stands up. “Stop looking at me like that! I’m not stupid! I know you all feel sorry for me, poor old Dani, he can’t remember a thing!”  
  
“Dani-” Jorge begins, but Dani shakes his head, feeling the tears slip down his cheeks. “Dani, please listen-”  
  
But Dani turns on his heel and leaves the kitchen. He can feel his head spinning, turning over the things he does remember, his eyes drawn back to the photo of himself and Jorge almost taunting him in the lounge. He races up the stairs to the guest room, the only room that doesn’t hold a thousand memories of his marriage to Jorge. His face hits the pillow, but it’s the one that Jorge was sleeping on, the faint scent of his cologne curling against his nostrils as he feels everything that has happened to him over the past few days hit him all at once.  
  
He can’t stop the tears, or the deep, bone-shattering sobs that rattle his already sore collarbone as he clings to the pillow, the frustration slowly bleeding out of him.  
  
He hears gentle footsteps, the bed slightly indenting and a warm hand brushing over his back. “I’m sorry,” Jorge murmurs, his voice soft and sorrowful.  
  
Dani bites down his lip to try stop the sob bubbling up from his throat. “Just leave me alone, I’m useless anyway, I can’t even remember how old I am!”  
  
“You’re not useless,” Jorge’s voice takes on a new voracity. “These things take time, and you’ve had to learn so much information about yourself,”  
  
“It’s just so frustrating that everyone seems to know more about me than I do, and you all pity me for not being able to remember,” The bed indents further, and the familiar scent that Dani knows to be Jorge’s, cologne with a hint of motor oil, fills his nostrils again. He opens his eyes to find the younger man lying beside him. Jorge’s green eyes look almost black, his gaze fixed on Dani as he gently wipes away the lone tear that has streaked down Dani’s face.  
  
Dani closes his eyes for a moment as he feels the cool metal of Jorge’s wedding ring against his cheek. “I would never pity you, Dani,” Jorge says softly. “I would never pity you. This is something you cannot control,”  
  
“But why can’t you just tell me things? It would make it easier,” Dani says, holding Jorge’s gaze from underneath damp eyelashes.  
  
“I don’t want to overload you with things, Dani,” Jorge says, pulling his hand away. Dani misses the warmth from his fingers but remains silent. “I just want you to learn things at your own pace,”  
  
“I know that, but it’s so hard when you all know everything about me-”  
  
“Well, Vale doesn’t know everything about you, thank god,” Jorge says, breaking the silence between them. “I just don’t want to push you,”  
  
“Tell me about how you proposed,” Dani blurts out. “I want to try and remember something happy for once,”  
  
“Which time?”  
  
“There was more than once?” Dani raises an eyebrow.  
  
_ “Why are you on the phone to me and not out proposing to your boyfriend?” Valentino’s voice teases through the receiver. “Don’t tell me you fucking chickened out?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Is putting it in the champagne too cheesy though?” Jorge worries his lip, his hand unconsciously going to the pocket where the ring sits. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Valentino sighs heavily. “He would love it if you presented it to him on a fucking silk cushion. Just go out there and propose already with that thing you call an engagement ring,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge huffs. “That thing cost me eight thousand euros,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “So go put it on his finger then,” Valentino says and before Jorge can fire back with a comment, he hears the dial tone and curses under his breath. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Is everything okay?” Dani’s voice cuts through the silence and Jorge shoves the phone back into his pocket as though he’s been caught red-handed. His hand grazes against the ring and he can feel his mouth go dry as he surveys the man he’s going to ask to marry him. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Y-yeah, Vale just having some problems with Marc, you know the usual,” He utters out, cursing himself internally. The excuse sounded much better in his head. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani raises an eyebrow. “Well, dinner is almost ready and we’re not having cold paella like last time,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge finds himself smirking for a moment at the memory of them fucking against the stove, the paella on their plates long forgotten, straightening the collar of his shirt as he glances at himself in the mirror taking a deep breath. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ This is it, Lorenzo. He tells himself as he steers himself back towards the kitchen. He stops for a moment in the doorway, watching Dani stand over the pan of paella. He stares at the curve of the shorter man’s back, at his messy hair and he exhales softly, his hand moving towards the ring still ensconced in his pocket. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ His hands shake as he pulls out the chilled bottle of champagne from the fridge. His teeth find his lip as he collects the two champagne flutes. Uncorking the bottle with unsteady hands, he slowly fills them both, his gaze flitting back to Dani for a moment to check he’s still preoccupied with the paella. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The ring makes a sizable clink when he deposits it in one of the flutes, but it’s thankfully masked by the crackling of the pan on the stove. Jorge takes another deep exhale, trying to ignore his beating heart, slamming against his ribcage. He picks up the two flutes and turns around, smile already spreading across his face. “Dani-” He begins. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani turns around, and spots the two flutes in Jorge’s hand. He shakes his head, immediately ripping them both out of Jorge’s hand before he can speak. “We agreed, no alcohol before a race weekend,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge can only look on in horror as Dani pours both glasses of champagne down the sink. He hears the telltale clink of the ring, the ring that is worth eight thousand euros, disappear down the plughole. _ _  
_ _  
_ “I poured the champagne down the plughole?” Dani asks, his mouth falling open in horror. “With the ring inside?”  
  
Jorge nods, smiling painfully at the memory. “I had to call Vale up the next morning in a panic and make him come over to help me get it out,”  
  
Dani finds the giggle bubble up from his throat as he tries to picture Valentino and Jorge try and break into the sink pipe to retrieve the ring.  
  
“It took us three hours,” Jorge says, shaking his head as he thinks about the moment when Valentino’s long fingers finally curled around the ring, pulling it free of the dirt-encrusted pipe. “He was cursing me out by the end of it,”  
  
“I can imagine,” Dani says, a smile slowly stretching across his face. “Thank you,”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For making me smile again, for telling me something that I’d forgotten. I still don’t remember it, but it feels real and that’s the most important thing isn’t it?”  
  
“It is,” Jorge murmurs, returning the smile. “It’s good to see a smile on your face again,”  
  
“It’s you I have to thank for that, for telling me something I’d forgotten. I hope that I can remember for myself soon,”  
  
“Me too,” Jorge says, holding Dani’s gaze. Silence settles over the two men, dark brown eyes locked on green. Dani slowly leans in, feeling something warm twist in the bottom of his chest, unable to tear his eyes away from Jorge. “I wish I could remember more-”  
  
“You will,”  
  
Dani leans in, his breath tickling Jorge’s cheek. The younger man stiffens at the contact. “Dani, what-”  
  
“Kiss me,” Dani whispers. “_Please_,”  
  
“Dani-” Jorge’s voice is weak.  
  
“I want to remember,”  
  
Jorge’s eyes harden at Dani’s words and he wrenches himself away. Dani immediately feels the chill settle into his bones at the expression on Jorge’s face. “I have to go,” Jorge murmurs, almost to himself as he turns on his heel and all but runs from the bedroom, leaving Dani with spinning thoughts and a feeling he can’t place, biting at the corners of his chest.

* * *

  
“Dani?” Marc’s voice cuts through the silence and his racing thoughts of Jorge’s face - the devastated expression on his face was evident before he bolted out of the room. “What happened?”  
  
“I tried to kiss Jorge,” Dani murmurs, shoving his face into the pillow to muffle his voice. “I know it was stupid but-”  
  
“You kissed Jorge?” Marc sounds incredulous.  
  
“No, no, I tried to kiss him,” Dani rolls over, his eyes locking on Marc’s widened ones. “I’m so stupid, I just thought-”  
  
“Is that why he stormed out of here, looking all panicked?” Marc asks, his voice soft and calm. Dani stares at the younger man - at the man who is a five times world champion - the man his memories still think is a slip of a seventeen year old, still nursing that crush on Valentino Rossi.  
  
Dani groans under his breath. “He must think I am an idiot,”  
  
“He doesn’t think that,” Marc says, and christ, he looks older than his 25 years of age. “He’s probably confused himself. He probably feels bad about the whole situation,”  
  
“You’re right,” Dani murmurs. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss him, I just - I wanted to know if it would let me remember anything,”  
  
“Dani,” Marc sighs. “That’s why he’s upset! You’re trying to kiss him to get your memories back, not because of your feelings for him,”  
  
Dani groans again. “I am an idiot,”

* * *

  
“Jesus, something must have happened,” Valentino’s soft Italian accent fades through the air, his blue eyes fixed on the cigarette in between Jorge’s shaking fingers. “Thought you quit,”  
  
“I did when we got married,” Jorge says, lifting the cylinder up to his lips and taking a long, shaky drag. “He tried to kiss me,”  
  
“Well, shit. That’s good, right?” Valentino says, taking Jorge’s proffered lighter and lighting up his own cigarette. “You know, Marc’s going to kill me when I go in there, smelling of cigarette smoke? At least Dani doesn’t remember-” The Italian pauses for a moment. “Shit, I’m sorry-”  
  
“It’s not your fault, it’s not his fault either-” Jorge worries his lip, glancing down at the curl of smoke dancing from the end of his cigarette. “He only did it to see if he could awaken any of his memories,”  
  
Valentino curses softly under his breath.  
  
“I just thought the first time he would kiss me again would be because he wanted to, not to try and remember things,” Jorge rubs a hand through his hair. “I guess, it’s getting to me more than I realise, this whole situation-”  
  
“That’s understandable,” Valentino says, blowing smoke out into the air. “You’ve coped better than I would have. And he is remembering stuff isn’t he?”  
  
“All the negative things at the start of our relationship,”  
  
“But he needs to remember those things, they’re as equally important,” Valentino reasons, his blue eyes fixed on Jorge as the Majorcan takes one final drag of his cigarette, stomping it out with his boot.  
  
“You’re right,” Jorge sighs as he glances down to his watch. “Will you be able to watch him whilst I go to this meeting?”  
  
Valentino nods once, watching the younger man push a hand through his mussed hair, his other moving to grab his car keys from the pocket of his jacket. “Did Dani know about this before the accident?”  
  
Jorge doesn’t answer. Valentino sighs and throws the cigarette butt on the floor, crushing it out as he watches Jorge pull away in his Ferrari.  
  
He goes back inside to find Marc curled up with Dani, the shorter man sobbing into his shoulder and he exhales heavily. This is not going to be pretty, he thinks as he pads down the stairs and into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.  
  
“He’s asleep,” Marc’s voice cuts through the silence of the lounge, as Valentino turns his blue eyes from the depths of the dark liquid to stare at his boyfriend. “He’s exhausted,”  
  
“You know about this deal too, don’t you?”  
  
Marc worries his lip, gazing down at his feet. “Vale, he’s not to know anything yet. He didn’t before the accident, and it’s definitely not the right time to say anything now,”  
  
“You didn’t veto him though, did you?”  
  
“No, I didn’t.” Marc mutters, his eyes moving towards the stairs for a moment. “I was told not to say anything about this until it’s all official,”  
  
“It’s going to break him, you know that,” Valentino says, putting his coffee down.  
  
“I don’t have a choice. Alberto doesn’t want to renew his contract. I can’t veto everyone that they contact,”  
  
“He still thinks Alberto is his fucking manager. He thinks that he has his best interests at heart, Marc. I never thought you would do this to Dani, he’s been your teammate for god knows how long-”  
  
“I’m not doing it to Dani!” Marc hisses under his breath. “I’m not the one who has a fucking grudge! He doesn’t want Dani in the team anymore,”  
  
“And he could have his pick of anyone for the seat, but he happens to choose Dani’s _ husband _ ,”  
  
“Jorge is free to make his own decisions. You snapped Yamaha’s hand off to return to them when you didn’t want to be at Ducati anymore,” Marc snarls, his eyes darker than usual.  
  
“I wasn’t married to Jorge,”  
  
“Why are you angry at me? It’s Jorge’s decision, not mine,”  
  
“Because you have a say in the matter too. And you didn’t tell me about this, we’re supposed to trust one another, Marc,” Valentino says, tugging on his cropped hair. “How long has this been going on?”  
  
“Since just after Qatar,” Marc worries his lip.  
  
“Jesus christ, Marc. It’s May,” Valentino shakes his head.  
  
“Jorge wasn’t mentioned then. Alberto told me that he made contact after Le Mans,”  
  
“That was the last race before Dani’s accident,” Valentino blows a low breath. “Jesus christ, this is going to be a giant mess,”

* * *

  
Dani finds himself falling into another memory as the scent of Jorge fills his nostrils, his hands curling into the warm duvet.  
  
_ Phillip Island has always been a cruel mistress to Dani. This year was no different, this has and has always been Casey’s happy hunting ground. Staring at the photographs of Jorge holding out his bloodied stump of a ring finger just makes things worse and Dani feels the nausea rise up in the bottom of his stomach. He himself had come fourth, but Casey stood on the top step of the podium as the newly crowned world champion. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He had done what Dani could not, and it hurt. It hurt more because he was Dani’s teammate, they had the same machinery. Yet, it’s Casey who has beaten him to the prize that has yet again eluded him. He retires back to his home in Geneva to lick his wounds, trying to ignore the fact that another year has passed and he’s still not yet the champion. Yet, Jorge already has one title to his name - _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He shakes his head, snarling to himself. Why does he keep thinking of Jorge? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He doesn’t know why he ends up driving all the way to Lugano. It’s foolish really, it’s a four hour journey, but before he knows it, he’s sitting outside Jorge’s apartment complex with his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, scanning the car park for any sign of any media lurking in the nearby vicinity. His heart slams against his ribcage as he slowly opens the car door and moves towards the front door of Jorge’s apartment. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He’s never been here before. It looks unassuming, but Dani can’t bring himself to knock on Jorge’s door. To knock on the door, means to accept that there’s a part of him that cares for Jorge, that wants to know that he is alright. He takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What are you doing here?” Jorge looks the same as he did the last time Dani saw him. A little tired perhaps, dark smudges decorating his eyes, his dark hair mussed. A smirk dances over Jorge’s face. “Did you miss me that much, Pedrosa?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Can I come in?” Dani asks, holding the bottle of wine he brought with him. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge stands to the side, allowing the shorter man access inside. “You know I can’t drink on my painkillers right?” He smirks as Dani glances around the apartment. He spots one of Jorge’s ugly designer jackets hanging from the back of the couch, a few photos of black and white motorbikes decorate the walls. It’s very unlike Jorge. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Why are you here, Dani?” Jorge asks, his voice soft as Dani feels him come up behind him. He feels Jorge’s breath tickle the back of his neck. “You didn’t drive for four hours to bring me wine,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani spots the MotoGP trophy, the one presented to the champions for them to keep, on Jorge’s mantlepiece, almost taunting him. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You’re the only person who would understand, it was supposed to be my year to win, not his-” Dani hates how bitter his voice sounds. “If I hadn’t have injured my shoulder at Le Mans-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s not your fault, Dani,” Jorge murmurs quietly. “These things happen. I mean, look at me, I’ve lost my championship and I’m a finger down-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Didn’t they reattach it? The press said it was going to be okay,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It is going to look very ugly on my wedding photos, lets just say that. It’s intact and there’s some feeling in it, but I’ve lost the tip of it,” _

_ Dani bites down on his lip. “That’s good,” _

_ "I know you didn’t come here to chat, Dani. What’s bothering you?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I feel like a failure,” The words leave Dani’s mouth before he can stop them. “He’s already got a MotoGP title, and it’s his first year in Honda. It was supposed to be my year,” He closes his eyes, trying to fight back the tears. “I don’t feel like an equal to you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Why would you care what I think? Dani, what the fuck is going on with you?” Jorge wrenches Dani around, and the shorter man is confronted with those same dark green eyes that have been plaguing him for days. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I don’t feel like I’m good enough, anymore,” Dani blurts out, feeling the anger rise up inside him. “It’s all going to be about Casey from now on isn’t it?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Dani-” Jorge says, quietly. “You know that’s not the case,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I don’t even know why I care what you think. I never did before, but now I do. I wanted to beat you this year, I was so focused on you I forgot all about the threat in my own garage. And then you had to crash in Phillipp Island and I was worried-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge’s lips cut him off mid-sentence. His back hits the wall behind him as Jorge’s lips move slowly over his own, a low sigh brushing between the Majorcan’s lips as his hand moves gently to pull the baseball cap away from Dani’s head. Jorge’s lips dance away from the corner of his lips, mapping over the curves of his jawline and Dani lets out a low groan as Jorge’s talented mouth hooks onto his neck, sucking a bruise into the golden skin. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Oh god, Jorge,” Dani whimpers out and he feels the smirk of Jorge’s lips against his neck. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge pulls away, the smirk still clinging to his lips. “Bedroom?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani can only nod, as Jorge’s uninjured hand folds into his own, tugging him up the stairs. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He ends up taking the lead, pulling his shirt off in a swift movement that makes his collarbone ache ever so slightly at the contact. Jorge’s darkening eyes rove over the caramel skin, his injured hand slowly stroking over the puckered scar that crosses over Dani’s collarbone. “You’re beautiful,” Jorge whispers as his other shaking hand moves down to pop open the button of Dani’s jeans - _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani smirks at the contact, pulling away from the taller man to pull off his shirt, his gaze drawn instantly to Jorge’s paler skin against his own. “Like what you see, Pedrosa?” Jorge teases, as he backs Dani up against the edge of the bed. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Shut the fuck up, Lorenzo,” Dani says, his voice lacking real conviction as he loses his balance, toppling onto the sheets of Jorge’s bed. Their mouths soon meet once more as Jorge presses him against the bed, his hands moving to tug lightly at the curls at the nape of Dani’s neck, making the shorter man gasp against his mouth - _ _  
_ _  
_ Dani wakes from the dream with a gasp, pushing a shaking hand through his hair. He doesn’t need Jorge to tell him that was their first time and it was as a result of Casey’s championship. He thinks back to when Jorge had steered him away from the trophy cabinet, changing the subject when Dani had mentioned championships.  
  
He can hear Valentino and Marc’s soft voices coming from the lounge, and then there’s silence and low moaning that can only be indicative of kissing. It’s easy enough to slip past them, their attention solely on each other and the thought makes Dani yearn for the same thing they have. He reaches the trophy cabinet, flicking on the switch slowly. His eyes are immediately drawn to the pair of 250cc trophies that he remembers so well. A small smile graces over his dry lips at the thought - he was young then, and Jorge Lorenzo was nothing more than a dirty name to him. However, his attention is piqued by the three large silver trophies, standing neatly all in a row.  
  
_ Jorge Lorenzo _ _  
_ _ MotoGP Champion 2010 _ _  
_ _  
_ He knows that one, it’s now a part of his memories. It stings a little that he didn’t manage to beat Jorge for the first time. He glances at the next one, shining in the light.  
  
_ Jorge Lorenzo _ _  
_ _ MotoGP Champion 2012 _ _  
_ _  
_ Something tugs deep inside his chest as he scans over the engraving once more. He was sure that 2012 was his year. His gaze flickers to the last remaining trophy in the row, his heart almost willing it to belong to him.  
  
_ Jorge Lorenzo _ _  
_ _ MotoGP Champion 2015 _ _  
_  
And that’s the last one. Dani feels his heart catch in his throat as he reads the words one last time, a sob building up as the tears threaten to sting at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t a MotoGP Champion. Jorge had three. He remembers Valentino having at least seven, and then he recalls the Italian man’s words whilst he was sitting in the hospital bed.  
  
_ “He’s 25 now, with a hell of a lot more championships,” _ _  
_ _  
_ They all have championships, except him, he realises. The tears begin to fall down his face as he turns away from the cabinet. He has to get out of this house, he has to get away from all these memories. He finds himself rooting through the bowl by the door, his hand curling around a set of keys that he instinctively knows are for his bike. It’s easy enough to slip out of the house and move to the garage. The helmet slips over his head easily and he feels the biting sensation of anxiety slowly ebb away as he pulls on his gloves and starts the bike, the samurai keychain that hangs off the keys moves around, in time with the revs as he smiles and pushes down the visor.

* * *

_  
_“Oh god, Marc,” Valentino murmurs, his lips brushing over the part of the young Spaniard’s ear that sends him crazy. 

Marc mewls against him, his body slowly coming undone underneath Valentino's touch. The way Valentino's nickname - _ oh god yes, Vale _ \- falls from his kiss-swollen lips is enough to send the Italian man mad. He knows that they shouldn't be making out on Jorge and Dani's couch of all places, but it has been a rough couple of days and Marc's touch is enough. His fingers tangle into Marc's hair, tugging on the dark curls and eliciting another groan from the younger man's lips. 

“You better not be defiling Marc on my couch, Vale,” Jorge calls out, as he strips off his leather jacket, throwing his keys into the bowl at the side of the door.  
  
Valentino rips his lips away from Marc’s, his expression full of guilt as Marc whines at the loss of contact. “You’re home earlier than expected Yorg,”  
  
“Meeting didn’t take that long,” Jorge shrugs, folding his arms as he surveys the two men still curled up together on the couch. “I’ll send you the dry cleaning bill, Vale,”  
  
“Might not need to, when Dani finds out about the entire situation and murders you both, how has he been?"

"Still asleep, I think. He was cut up about the whole kiss thing though, what were you thinking messing with his head like that?" Valentino says, glancing at his ex-teammate. "Marc had to go up there and comfort him-"

"Is he alright?" Jorge asks, worrying his lip. "He kissed _ me." _

"And he has forgotten his memories, Yorg. He has no memory of the last eight years and he thinks you hate him for that,"

"I could never hate him," Jorge sighs as he glances towards the stairs. "I better go and see if he's alright,"

"We'll let ourselves out. Continue this at home," Valentino calls out to Jorge as he climbs the stairs, directing his smirk towards Marc who returns his smile. He tangles their hands together, tugging Marc towards the door when Jorge thunders down the stairs, wearing a panicked expression. 

"Dani isn't in bed,"

Valentino pushes away the thread of panic for a moment. "Maybe he went to sleep in your bed?"

"I checked both rooms. He isn't there," Jorge whispers, his eyes wide and full of panic. "Oh god, where is he?"

"Don't panic," Marc tries to soothe the Majorcan. "He is probably in the toilet or something. He won't have gone far,"

Jorge ignores him, pushing past the couple, only to stop in his tracks. The trophy cabinet that contains all their awards from their careers is illuminated in bright light. Jorge's eyes gaze over the three trophies and he feels his heart sink.

"He knows," He whispers, moving towards the dish that holds the keys to their bikes. 

"Knows what?"

"He knows he never won a championship," Jorge murmurs, trying to push away the curl of panic that has blossomed in his chest. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, the lock-screen photo of Dani asleep against his shoulder as he smirks in the photo, Dani looking swamped in one of his Philipp Plein jackets. He remembers the photo being taken. Dani had started shivering in the cold weather, clad in only a thin white shirt, and Jorge, being the gentleman he was, had taken off his jacket. 

_ "I’m not wearing that, Jorge,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m not giving you the option here, babe,” Dani’s eyebrows twitch at the nickname and he sighs as Jorge gently pushes the jacket over his shoulders. He straightens the lapels with a smile playing at his lips. The jacket is slightly too big for Dani, making him look tinier than he actually is. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You look good in my clothes,” Jorge can’t keep the smirk off his face. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Shut up, this is the only time I’m wearing this thing you call a jacket,” _ _  
_ _  
_ The call goes straight through to voicemail. Jorge curses under his breath, rehitting the call button, but again, the connection goes straight through to voicemail. He moves to grab his own keys when he realises a set are missing. _  
_  
“Fuck, the keys to his bike aren’t here,”  
  
Valentino’s hand brushes against Jorge’s shoulder. “Calm down. Think of where he would go,”  
  
“I don’t know, he doesn’t know Lugano,” Jorge whispers. "God, I never should have gone to that stupid meeting,"

Valentino opens his mouth to speak, but Marc gives him the warning look, his hand closing over his boyfriend's shoulder. "I'll stay here," Marc says in the calmest voice Jorge thinks he has ever heard from the younger man. "Jorge, anywhere else you think he might go?"

“He used to go down to the lake sometimes,” Jorge says, grabbing the keys to his own bike, a x-fuera keychain decorating them. “Might be worth a shot?”  
  
“What if he goes to Geneva? He might go and see his brother,”  
  
Jorge all but throws his phone at Valentino. “Call Eric, see if he’s heard from him,”  
  
“But you’ll need this-” Valentino begins but before he can finish, Jorge is collecting his helmet and zipping up his jacket, sprinting towards his motorbike. Valentino sighs heavily, holding Jorge’s phone as he watches Jorge’s hand snap down the visor, the Harley purring to life.  
  
“What will we do if he can’t find Dani?” Marc asks in a small voice, leaning into Valentino, his head resting against the taller man’s shoulder.  
  
“He will, he always finds Dani,” Valentino says, watching the bike disappear down the road, his hand slipping around Marc, pulling the Spaniard closer to him.

* * *

  
Dani glances out over the calm still water. The sun is slowly beginning to set in the distance, yellow mixing with pink and orange, casting strange shapes over the reflection of the lake. His phone buzzes once more against his hip and he sighs heavily, pulling it free from his pocket.  
  
_ Carinyo _🧡: _ 5 missed call(s) _ _  
_ _  
_ He doesn’t need to check the photo of the contact. He may not remember much of the past eight years but instinctively, he knows who that contact is. The phone stops buzzing again, and Dani is confronted with his lockscreen - it’s a photo of him and Jorge, but this one is completely unstaged. They’re in a bed somewhere, presumably naked - both shirtless and curled up in the white, rumpled sheets. Dani is beaming at Jorge, who is pretending to lick the side of his face. Dani can see Jorge’s hand resting on his chest, the wedding ring adorning his finger proudly. He closes his eyes, feeling the tears build up in the corners of his eyes.  
  
_ Why didn’t Jorge just tell him? Was he waiting until Dani remembered the past five years and realised that Jorge had three titles to his name? _ _  
_ _  
_ The phone flashes again, but Dani shakes his head, letting out a sob as he mutes the screen, rejecting the call before another memory comes to the forefront of his mind…  
  
_ “Good morning, Mr Lorenzo,” Jorge murmurs, a smirk dancing across his lips as he gently kisses the freckles that decorate Dani’s bronzed shoulders. “Did you sleep well?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Fuck off,” Dani mutters back, his nose scrunching up at the nickname. “Like I’d ever take your name,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’ve got a marriage certificate that says otherwise, babe,” Jorge teases. “One that says your name is now Daniel Lorenzo-Pedrosa,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani hums under his breath. “I still don’t know why I agreed to this,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Because you love me,” Jorge says, smugly. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I suppose,” Dani deadpans, leaning in slowly to capture his husband’s - and that still sounds strange to him to refer to Jorge in such a way - lips. _

_ “What do you think our younger selves would say if they could see us now, naked, the morning after our wedding?” Jorge asks against his mouth. _

_"I think my younger self would slap me for sleeping with you,” Dani says, pulling his lips away with a soft chuckle. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge whines at the loss of contact. “I think my younger self would be pleased that I finally stopped pining for you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I still can’t believe you had a crush on me when we were 15,” Dani says, his dark eyes locking on Jorge’s dark green ones. “I thought you hated me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Well, you know what my father was like-” The smile drops off Jorge’s face. It’s a sensitive subject - their relationship has certainly deteriorated through the years. Dani can remember meeting the senior Lorenzo, who kept himself to himself and dragged his surly looking son with him. Dani remembers Jorge finally plucking up the courage to tell his father of his sexual orientation and he returned back from Majorca with a black eye and a bruised cheekbone. He was noticeably absent from the wedding yesterday, and although Jorge acted like he couldn’t care less, Dani knows his father’s inability to accept him still stings. “Hey,” He whispers, his hand moving over Jorge’s cheek, pulling the younger man’s face to meet his own. “We found our way to each other eventually, didn’t we?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge nods, his lips brushing against Dani’s fingers “Can’t believe we got married,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Me neither,” Dani whispers, unable to tear his gaze away from the man he can proudly call his husband. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Jorge smiles as he leans in, capturing Dani’s lips against his own, his hand moving slowly to ghost down Dani’s naked body - _ _  
_ _  
_ “Dani,” Jorge’s panicked voice snaps him out of the memory and he glances up to see the younger man almost running towards him, he wrenches his helmet off as he runs, leaving it to fall to the floor as he collects the older man in his arms. Dani doesn’t fight the touch, he allows Jorge’s arms to curl around him pushing him closer to the Majorcan.  
  
“God, I was so worried,” Jorge whispers, his voice barely audible against the shell of Dani’s ear. “Please don’t ever do that ever again,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dani murmurs back, feeling the guilt squeeze around his heart. “I just- why didn’t you tell me? Were you just waiting for me to remember?”  
  
Jorge closes his eyes as though he’s pained. “No, no, of course not. I just didn’t want to be the one to tell you. I know I’m a coward but I didn’t want the one to put you through that,”  
  
Dani feels the tears sting at his eyes. “But you let me find out by looking at all your trophies, the trophies you won three times-” He pauses. “It hurts that I never won,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jorge looks like he’s about to cry. “I wanted to tell you, I really did, I just didn’t know how-” _  
_  
“I understand,” Dani feels something settle in the bottom of his chest at the warmth of Jorge’s body against his own. He never realised how perfectly they fit against each other, his chin resting against Jorge’s shoulder, the taller man’s arms closed around him, he almost feels like home, his previous anger and hurt melting away at Jorge’s touch.  
  
“If I could, I’d give you every single one of my titles,” Jorge whispers, his eyes locked on Dani’s.  
  
Dani flinches, pulling away from the Majorcan. “I earned the titles I do have,”  
  
“I know that,” Jorge says, shaking his head, his eyes still glassy. “You’re still an incredible rider, and you’ve achieved so much. I wanted to be like you when I first joined MotoGP. I still do,”  
  
Dani feels his mouth fall open at Jorge’s admission. “What?”  
  
“You were always the person I wanted to beat, the person that I aspired to be. You proved everyone wrong the day you got on that MotoGP bike and you continued to prove them wrong over the years. What you lack in titles, you make up for in legacy. Me, Marc, Maverick? We wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t someone like you representing Spain, showing us the way,”  
  
Dani doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Jorge brushes away his tears once again.  
  
“I’m sorry too,”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For kissing you, I understand it’s hard for you too. You went from having a loving husband to sharing your life with someone who doesn’t know you-” He pauses, biting on his lip. “I’m sorry for confusing you, and kissing you to try and get my memories back,”  
  
“It’s okay, I know how hard it must be for you,” Jorge says, his hand still on Dani’s face. “I can’t say I understand what you’re going through, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry for running away earlier,”  
  
“I just wanted to remember,” Dani says, closing his eyes. “What if I’m like this forever?”  
  
“You won’t be,” Jorge’s thumb burns against his skin, brushing in little circles against his cheekbone. “You will remember in time, I promise,”  
  
“Thank you,” Dani finds himself leaning into the touch. “I don’t know what I would have done over the past couple days without you,”  
  
Silence passes between the two men for a moment before a random shiver shakes Dani’s body. The sun has now set, and darkness is setting in, with the colder air following as the last few vestiges of light are banished away by the night. Jorge says nothing, sliding off his jacket and slipping it over Dani’s slighter shoulders. He bites back the smile at how the fabric swallows up the younger man, but a flicker of something else fills him at the sight of Dani wearing something he owns again.  
  
Dani raises an eyebrow at the slightly distressed leather, the shiny camouflage print clearly screams _ Jorge _ .  
  
“Don’t start. That is custom made Philipp Plein,”  
  
“Thank you, Jorge,” Dani says, snuggling further into the fabric that is still warm from the heat of Jorge’s skin and smells faintly of his expensive cologne.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Jorge replies, the small smile that Dani knows is a genuine one flitters across his face. “Dani, I-”  
  
They’re cut off by Dani’s phone once again ringing out. Dani pulls it free from his pocket, studying it for a moment.  
  
_ Valentino calling _ _  
_ _  
_ The screen announces.  
  
“You didn’t give Vale a better name than that?” Jorge asks, incredulously as Dani hits the answer button and lifts the phone to his ear.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Now you answer!” Valentino’s voice holds a little annoyance in its tone. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sorry for running off,”  
  
“Is yourgay with you?”  
  
Dani glances at Jorge. “Yes,”  
  
“Okay, good. Tell him I’m going back to your place to get Marc and then we’re going to go to the hotel and have passionate sex,”  
  
“Too much information, Vale,”  
  
“Tell him not to have sex on our couch,” Jorge calls out and Valentino _ cackles _ down the phone. “We already did that. By the way, I called your brother and he’s not happy,”  
  
Dani sighs heavily. “I’ll call him later,” He makes a mental note to call Eric tomorrow morning.  
  
“You better. He sounded pissed.” Valentino says. “Anyways, have to dash! I’ll speak to you soon,”  
  
Before Dani can answer, he’s greeted with the sound of the dialtone. Sighing, he turns his attention to Jorge. “Should we go home?”  
  
Jorge nods, holding his hand out. Dani accepts it slowly, trying to ignore the warmth that brushes over his cheeks as Jorge’s hand slides against his own, the jacket still pulled around his slighter form still holding a touch of Jorge’s cologne.  
  
“I remembered something else,”  
  
“Oh?” Jorge’s gaze is questioning. “What was it?”  
  
“I think it was the morning after our wedding, I was looking at my phone and it triggered a memory of us - well,” Dani feels his cheek heat up at the thought. “You know,”  
  
“Yeah,” Jorge says, a small smile curling on his lips. “I remember,”  
  
Dani feels himself smiling back before Jorge pulls his hand away, and Dani feels the ache of loss somewhere deep down in his chest.  
  
*  
  
Dani dreams. He recognises the place in his dream as Malaysia, he can feel the sweat soaking underneath his leathers. There was never any indication that anything was going to happen, not that Dani expected there to be. He glances around, hearing the roar of the crowd. It’s not sunny, but the extreme heat is making the hair at the nape of his neck sticky. Dani chooses to keep on his sunglasses, trying to get in the zone and not to think about a certain Majorcan who is absent from this round, his finger still in tatters.  
  
Dani doesn’t remember much of the race. He remembers a red flag waving in the breeze, remembers seeing the helicopter over the scene. He buries the rest of the images that seem to burn themselves in his retinas as he walks back to his motorhome, numbed by the news.  
  
He doesn’t realise that he’s crying until he wipes his face and his hand comes away, wet with tears.  
  
Dani doesn’t remember the journey back home, still numbed by the news of Marco’s death. The emptiness of his apartment seems to taunt him and he knows he can’t stay. He doesn’t remember the drive to Lugano, or standing outside Jorge’s door.  
  
_ “What are you doing here?” Jorge gets out before Dani collapses into the taller man’s arms, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. “Oh, Dani,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani finds his hands fisting into the back of Jorge’s shirt, his face buried against the Majorcan’s collarbone. He takes in the scent of Jorge - of the expensive cologne that he’s started to wear, and something else that he can’t place that is so intrinsically Jorge. “I-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s okay,” Jorge whispers against his hair, his hand moving to gently stroke over Dani’s back. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s not okay. He’s dead, and I - I said all that stuff about him and now he’s g-gone,” Dani murmurs against Jorge’s shirt. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You couldn’t know that it was going to happen, Dani,” Jorge sounds older than his twenty four years of age. “I wasn’t exactly his best friend either,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “And I feel guilty because I was sat in the garage when we found out, and all I could think of was you crashing in Phillip Island and what if that had been you? What if you would have-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m here,” Jorge soothes, his hands finding Dani’s face, forcing the shorter man to look at him. He looks beautiful in the dying light, his dark eyes illuminated by his tears. “I’m not going anywhere, just give me a second chance.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani chokes on a sob. “Jorge-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m here,” Jorge whispers. “I promise you I won’t leave you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani answers him with his lips. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorges kisses back, soft, like a feather touch, almost as though he’s afraid to hurt the man in his arms, his hands gently cupping Dani’s face. Dani wants to let those three special words slip from his mouth, but he pulls them back, enjoying the sensation of Jorge against him, warm, safe, _ ** _alive_ ** _ . _

Dani startles awake at the memory, and Jorge is immediately by his side, as in the dream - or was it a memory - his warm hands comforting and careful, stroking over Dani’s back. 

“Bad dream?” Jorge asks, his voice calm and quiet, allowing Dani’s hand to close over his own.  
  
“Malaysia,” Dani replies, watching Jorge stiffen at the single word.  
  
Silence settles over the two men for a moment before Dani turns to Jorge, settling his dark eyes on the Majorcan. “Is that when we got together?”  
  
Jorge sighs, squeezing on Dani’s hand. “We kinda united in our grief. I wasn’t exactly friends with Marco either - and well, my father wasn’t exactly respectful...I know it’s not the way anyone wants to get together, but I think I finally realised that I was going to lose you if I kept pushing you away. And I didn’t want to lose you-”  
  
“It’s just strange to me that we got together because of what happened,”  
  
“It wasn’t like that. I think it was the last push we needed, we kept dancing around each other and I kept pretending that I didn’t have feelings for you. I was a stupid kid and I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt for you. It wasn’t easy, not in the slightest, but it was the moment I realised I wanted to be with you-”  
  
“So that was it, we got together and we’ve been together since?”  
  
“You make it sound easy. It wasn’t,” Jorge chuckles. “I still struggled with coming to terms with my sexuality and we hid the relationship for the best part of a year whilst we fought for the championship against one another,”  
  
_ They had embraced once another in parc ferme in Qatar and it hadn’t taken long for the press to notice the shift in the dynamic between them. And one particular question at the press conference in Catalunya hits home. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “In 2003, we were like enemies. 2005, we were more enemies.” Jorge laughs. “2008, even more enemies. Now, we can have a hug and maybe in two or three years, we get married,” Jorge flashes his widest smile, playing it up for the cameras, his hand moving towards Dani as though to embrace him. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani pushes him away, keeping his tone light-hearted, despite his heart hammering against his ribcage. He’s used to it - ever since he came out back in his 125cc days, whenever he spends too much time near another rider, it’s automatically construed as something less innocent than it actually is. He’s seen some of the press speculating that there’s something more between himself and Jorge - but he knows that the Majorcan isn’t ready to tell everyone about their fledgling relationship. He runs off some spiel about them becoming more mature, whilst Jorge’s hand slowly inches towards his thigh. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What was that about, Jorge? Joking about marriage?” Dani snaps at his boyfriend after the press conference. “What are you playing at?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m sorry, okay?” Jorge murmurs, staring at his feet. “I just want to be as honest as I can, and one day, I do want to marry you-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani feels his mouth drop open. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ But at the next race, Jorge is his cocky usual self, flirting with his grid girl, all wide smiles and unzipped leathers and Dani finds his heart wrenching at the sight. He finds himself stuck behind Casey, whilst Jorge stands on the top step and waves, the same smile curling on his face. They barely acknowledge one another, and it stings. Dani knows Jorge is playing up to the cameras, he’s a showman - and when he wins, it’s amplified, but there’s a pang of something in his chest as Jorge doesn’t hold his gaze as their bottles clink against each other. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt when Jorge doesn’t visit him later that evening. In a way, he’s glad to not be seen as a dirty little secret, but there’s something deep down inside that aches at Jorge’s absence. He sees the photos of Jorge celebrating his win plastered all over social media and vows that he won’t let Jorge in like that again. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ But he does - and all it takes is Jorge’s voice pleading with him. “Dani,” Nobody else says his name so beautifully. “Dani, please let me in-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani wrenches open the door. “Why? So you can pretend that you care about me? So you can tell me that you want to marry me someday then pretend I don’t exist because you’re in denial about your sexuality?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge’s eyes darken at the last word. “I’m not gay, Dani,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m not saying you are,” Dani hisses, meeting his gaze. “But you’re pretending to be something you’re not,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani finds himself slammed up against the wall. “You don’t know me at all, you never did,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “That’s your father talking,” Dani whispers, looking up at Jorge. “This isn’t you, Jorge. This hateful person who tries to push anyone who cares away isn’t you. I know it isn’t,” He licks his lips. “I know you, Jorge and I know you’re scared, that’s why you want me to leave because it’s easier to push me away then to admit you love me-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge stares at Dani for a moment, their gazes locked on one another before he pulls himself away and all but sprints in the opposite direction. But Dani knows better. He runs after Jorge, short legs be damned, his hand closing around the Majorcan’s elbow. “Jorge, wait-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What do you want me to say, Dani?” Jorge reels around, his eyes glittering with tears. “I’m in love with you and it terrifies me-” _ _  
_ _  
_ Dani stares at Jorge with wide eyes. “What were you afraid of? Coming out?”  
  
“I just didn’t want people interfering in our personal lives. We were fighting for a championship, and I thought by coming out, it would take attention away from the focus. Also, I didn’t want everyone speculating about us. And I hadn’t come out to my family at that point,”  
  
Dani squeezes Jorge’s hand tightly. He knows that Jorge’s family is a sore spot, even with his poor memory. Jorge responds with a small smile, that Dani knows is strictly reserved for him. “I’m proud of you for doing that,”  
  
“You said that last time too,” Jorge says, squeezing back in response. Their hands stay entangled.

* * *

  
It doesn’t feel strange to be back in the paddock, it’s always felt like home to Dani - and Catalunya more so than any other race. He’s used to the cameras, ignoring them is simply second nature, as are the camera phones that are whipped out as he walks through the paddock, feeling the sunshine slowly warm his neck. He’s been summoned to the press conference - and it’s understandable. He’s been in the position more than he’d liked to have been - being the rider returning from an injury.  
  
Jorge, however, is furious when he reads the media summons from Dorna. “They can’t be fucking serious,” He snarls, twisting the paper in his fist, his wedding ring catching the light. “You’re not doing it,”  
  
“Jorge, I have to,” Dani says, sighing. “It’ll be okay,”  
  
“No, because you’re not doing it!” Jorge snaps. “You’re still recovering from your injury and they want to put you in front of a bunch of nosy journalists!”  
  
“Jorge, I have to do this. I can’t hide from everyone. Besides, they’ll probably want to talk to Marc and Vale, not me,” Dani says, trying to smile. “And you’ll be with me right?”  
  
Jorge nods. “Of course,”  
  
And he’s true to his word. He slides into the seat next to Dani’s, feeling the camera flashes intensify as his husband takes his place. Valentino is next, slapping Dani’s hand against his own as he passes, the collar of his jacket pulled up a little higher than usual - Marc’s doing most likely - and as though summoned by the thought of his name, Marc stumbles in, his hair more mussed than usual and his cheeks red. He sinks into the seat next to Dani, his eyes moving to lock on Valentino’s for a moment before silence descends over the room.  
  
Dani zones out at the beginning. He’s never enjoyed press conferences - he prefers to do his talking on the track - but he’s managed to perfect a poker face over the years. He doesn’t recognise the young-looking journalist leading the introductions, wondering where Nick is, but he answers his question with ease, able to rattle off the typical spiel that the PRs love and the journalists hate because they want news, headlines, _ drama. _   
  
Then the questions open up to the floor, and that’s when it all goes to shit.  
  
“Jorge, you said that you’re looking at other options in case Ducati decide not to extend your contract next year. Can you tell us anything about your future?”  
  
Dani feels his head snap towards the Majorcan. Jorge had never said anything about the possibility of him leaving Ducati. Perhaps he didn’t want to trouble Dani with his problems? Maybe he didn’t want him to worry?  
  
Jorge’s expression gives away nothing. “I cannot say anything at this time. I am not retiring, however, I will be on the grid for a little longer,” He gives the journalist his widest smile, and the flashes of the cameras intensify. Dani doesn’t see Valentino giving his ex-teammate the _ glare _ .  
  
“Question for Dani. The statement from Honda regarding your injury was very vague. They mentioned that you suffered some head trauma but there were no further details on that. Can you clarify?”  
  
Dani bites his lip. “I lost some of my memories,”  
  
The atmosphere in the room _ shifts _ . Jorge stiffens at his side, his face quickly paling as everyone’s attention turns to Dani.  
  
“Is that the reason you’re not wearing your wedding ring?” Another journalist asks and Dani can taste the familiar tang of blood as it hits his mouth. “Have you forgotten that you’re married?”  
  
“I-” Dani begins, trying to take a breath. “I-”  
  
A sea of questions seems to hit him. _ Are you getting a divorce? Are you and Jorge separating? Have you forgotten him? How much of your memory have you lost? Is it permanent? _  
  
“That’s enough,” Valentino leans forward, his eyes cold, like chips of ice. “This is a motorsport press conference. You are supposed to ask us questions about our jobs, not our personal lives,”  
  
Dani isn’t sure how he gets through the rest of the press conference, but he finds himself seeking out Jorge’s hand. A tiny smile appears on the corner of his lips as his fingers tangle with Dani’s, his thumb slowly rubbing over the skin, making Dani’s chest flutter. He all but pushes his way out of the room after the photographs are taken, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.  
  
Dani holds it together until he reaches his motorhome. It’s secluded, away from the prying eyes of the fans and the press, and he feels himself lean against the side of the cool metal as a sob falls from his lips.  
  
_ Now everyone knows _ , his mind tells him. _ Everyone knows that you don’t know half of your own life. They know more than you do. _ _  
_ _  
_ Warm arms curl around him, and a smell that he knows well. Motor oil and expensive cologne. _ Jorge _ . He falls against the taller man, his hand fisting into Jorge’s Ducati t-shirt.  
  
“Everyone knows,”  
  
“It will be okay,” Jorge murmurs against Dani’s forehead. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,”  
  
Dani closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. He feels _ safe _ . He’s never had a particularly difficult relationship with the press, thankfully, for him, he came out as a teenager and his sexuality was never discussed - well, presumably until he and Jorge imploded, he assumes. He doesn’t know how Jorge came out, and right now doesn’t seem like the right moment to ask. Dani buries his face into Jorge’s chest, feeling the Majorcan’s heart slowly beat against his ear as another memory pushes itself to the forefront.  
  
_ “I told my father that I’m gay,” Jorge stands in the doorway of Dani’s apartment, his face an entire mess of bruises and blood. Dani glances over the bruised skin around Jorge’s eye, almost black and angry looking - it’s a clear indication of Chicho Lorenzo’s anger. His lip is also split, and Dani feels his heart sink at the sight. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I don’t want to hide anymore, Dani,” Jorge says, closing his eyes as Dani gently reaches out to brush his fingers over Jorge’s injured face. “I’m not a kid anymore, he doesn’t control me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What did he say?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What do you think he said, Dani?” Jorge says, letting out a long sigh. “What do you think that my homophobic father would say when I told him that I’m not the straight man he always pushed me to be?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge,” Dani says, his hand slowly stroking over Jorge’s bruises. “Please don’t push me away,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “He said that he wished I had never been born and that I was no longer worthy of the Lorenzo name,” Jorge whispers, tears biting at the corners of his eyes. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m so sorry,” Dani says, pulling the taller man into his arms. He feels dampness against his shirt as Jorge’s shoulders begin to shake against him. “You’re worth so much more than his words. Your sexuality doesn’t define you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Silence falls over the pair for a moment, Jorge’s shoulders still shaking as he cries, Dani slowly stroking his back, wordlessly. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I love you,” Jorge breaks the silence as he glances up at Dani. “The pain is worth it for you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani feels as though his whole world has stopped at Jorge’s words. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I love you too,” He whispers back, claiming Jorge’s lips as his own. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “ _ Dani?” Jorge’s voice - soft, calm, everything that he was in the memory - lifts him out of the memory and he finds the same dark green eyes staring at him. “Dani, did you remember something else?”  
  
Dani is about to respond when Marc suddenly appears from seemingly nowhere. “Alberto wants to speak to you,”  
  
Dani expected that. After all, Alberto is his manager - but he has been noticeably absent recently - he wonders what has happened. But Jorge freezes against him, his eyes widening for a second.  
  
Dani raises an eyebrow, but Jorge says nothing as Marc grabs his hand and tugs him away from the motorhome.

* * *

  
Alberto looks much older than Dani remembers - there’s a few more wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, and his hair is noticeably thinner than it was before. However, the physical changes are not the only thing that has changed. Alberto is no longer Dani’s manager, it’s evident he’s risen up the ranks to the ultimate position of power. The team principal surveys the shorter man with a look of disdain as he points towards the chair opposite his desk.  
  
“What was that in the press conference?” He says, by way of a greeting, his eyes dark and unfeeling.  
  
“I- why shouldn’t I tell them the truth?”  
  
“Because we didn’t want them to know that you forgot everything over the past few years, and what were you thinking, not wearing your wedding ring, Daniel? You always wear your wedding ring,”  
  
“I can’t wear that right now-” Dani begins but Alberto waves a hand.  
  
“I don’t care if you don’t want to wear it. You’re going to put that ring back on your finger and you’re going to pretend that everything is fine, because I’m not having your relationship with Jorge overshadow Marc’s home GP,”  
  
Dani wants to say that it is his home GP too, but he closes his mouth, his eyes focused on the canvas photograph of Marc riding his Honda behind Alberto’s head.  
  
“What happened to you?” Dani asks, trying to keep his voice slow and steady. “When did you stop being my manager? Stopped caring about me?”  
  
“When you decided to throw away your career for _ Jorge Lorenzo _ ,” Alberto sneers. “You lost all credibility when you decided to start _ fucking _ your title rival,”

“You encouraged me to come out!” Dani fires back, anger threading through his tone. “You said that it was easier to come out earlier in my career,”  
  
“I thought you would find a nice boyfriend who wasn’t involved in bikes, I didn’t think you were going to fucking marry the guy you hated half your life, the man who stopped you winning all the titles that you should have,”  
  
“You can’t help who you fall in love with,” Dani says, shaking his head. “And I got over that, why didn’t you?”  
  
“Because you changed,” Alberto snarls. “You weren’t interested in the title once you got together with Lorenzo, you lost all the fight and fire you had inside you when he was the one you were fighting against - and I couldn’t represent someone like that anymore,”  
  
“I made you who you are today, Alberto,”  
  
Alberto shakes his head, standing up, his eyes dark. “No, Daniel, I made _ you _ who you are - well up until you met him, I could have made you into a fine three time MotoGP champion,”  
  
Dani bites back a response. “Was that all you wanted, _ boss_?”  
  
Alberto nods. “You’re going to put your wedding ring back on, and you’re going to get back on your bike. I don’t want you answering any personal questions. That’s all,”  
  
Dani leaves the room, his thoughts spinning, another memory brushing to the forefront of his mind.  
  
_ “Are you sure that it is a good idea to tell your manager about us?” Jorge asks, turning slightly to lean on his elbow as he gazes at Dani. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Alberto has known I’m gay since we started working together,” Dani says, rolling his eyes. “He’s been fine with my boyfriends before,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “But your boyfriends weren’t me,” Jorge says, raising an eyebrow as he smirks. “I’m quite different from everyone else,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Is that what you tell yourself?” Dani teases, as Jorge moves closer, pinning his wrists against the sheets. “Always like to make yourself seem special,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Well, aren’t I special?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani tries to pull his mouth away. “Jorge, I have to go and speak at Alberto,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Not right now, you don’t.” Jorge replies, his mouth moving to slowly suck a bruise into Dani’s neck. Dani feels his eyes slide shut as Jorge’s mouth dances over the bronzed skin, his teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh, his tongue pausing over his pulse - _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Dani,” Jorge whispers against his skin. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani has to pull the collar of his shirt up for his meeting with Alberto. Jorge wasn’t keen on letting Dani leave the bed without a gift, and he wanted to tag along but Dani was able to persuade the Majorcan to stay at home. He didn’t want to over-complicate matters further, by bringing along his title rival. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Here he is, the championship leader. I think this year is going to be our year,” Alberto beams as he pulls the smaller man into a hug. “What did you want to talk about?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani sighs heavily, sinking into Alberto’s expensive couch. “I’m in a relationship with someone, and it is getting pretty serious between us,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Alberto smiles. “And who is he?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ In hindsight, Dani realises that Alberto never expected him to actually answer. “Jorge Lorenzo,” He says, and his heart sinks as he watches the playful smile vanish from his manager’s lips. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge Lorenzo, as in the man you are fighting for the championship?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani nods, biting down on his lip. “Yes, I hope that’s not going to be a problem,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “How long has this been going on for?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Since just after Malaysia,” Dani says, watching Alberto flinch at his words. “It wasn’t planned or anything like that-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jesus christ Dani, it’s one thing to be gay yourself, but it’s another to be in a relationship with the man you’re competing against for a championship. We both know what Lorenzo is like, he’s probably doing this on purpose to ruin your concentration-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “It’s not like that between us,” Dani insists. “Jorge wouldn’t do that to me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You don’t know him like I do!” Alberto snaps. “He’s not even out is he? You’re nothing but an experiment to him, Dani. He cares too much about his career and his championships. You’re better than this! Jorge Lorenzo will never come out of the closet, and certainly not for you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You’re wrong,” Dani says, pushing himself up from his chair, his eyes locked on his manager, the person who has known him since he was nothing but a slip of a kid in 125cc. “You’re wrong about Jorge, you’ll see,” _ _  
_ _  
_ Dani gasps as he slowly pulls himself out of the memory, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. The reaction from Alberto, someone he only remembers to be his manager, somebody who was with him through the good times and the bad, the person who had held him as he cried over the homophobic comments when he had first come out. He scrubs at his eyes, glancing around the paddock. He has to find Jorge.

* * *

  
“I need my wedding ring back,” Dani says.  
  
Jorge glances at him with an expression he can’t quite place - there’s softness and vulnerability, and a spark of hope held within his eyes. “Why now?”  
  
“Alberto has insisted that I wear it to avoid questions from the media,”  
  
“No,” Jorge’s tone hardens. “No, he has no right to say whether you wear your ring or not, it’s your fucking choice, Dani. He’s not controlling you, this time,”  
  
“Jorge, please just give me my ring back,”  
  
“No,” Jorge shakes his head. “You told me you couldn’t wear it without knowing who you are. You can’t just put it on because your team boss has insisted you wear it and pretend that everything is absolutely fine,”  
  
“I don’t want any fuss, Jorge,” Dani sighs. “Just, please, give me the ring,”  
  
Jorge says nothing else as he unfastens the chain from his neck. Dani bites down on his lip, as Jorge wordlessly pulls the wedding ring from the silver, and grabs hold of Dani’s hand. He shoves the ring onto Dani’s finger in utter silence. “Happy now?”  
  
“Jorge-” Dani whispers, as Jorge rips his hand away from Dani’s as though he burns, stalking away, still gripping Dani’s engagement ring in his palm. “Jorge,” He says again at the Majorcan’s retreating back, his eyes flickering down to the ring shining innocently in the light.

* * *

  
“You’re wearing your wedding ring,” Marc says, his eyes focused on the silver band now encircling Dani’s finger. “Did you-”  
  
“Alberto made me put it back on,” Dani mumbles, worrying his lip as he glances over his garage. He doesn’t know any of his mechanics, barely recognises anyone that was in his team eight years ago. He pushes a hand through his hair. “Jorge isn’t happy about it,”  
  
“I can imagine,” Marc replies, following his teammates gaze. “Hasn’t he spoken to you at all today?”  
  
Dani shakes his head. He’s struggled today, without his memory. He keeps forgetting the names of the mechanics in his garage, and his Honda isn’t behaving herself. Even his bike is not how he remembers. He manages to take a few practise laps in, before he pulls back into the garage. He rips off his helmet with more force than necessary, tearing off his glasses slowly as he sinks into the chair. His mechanics exchange glances between one another, but he ignores them in favour of asking for the telemetry. He’s going to prove Alberto wrong.  
  
“He’ll come around,” Marc says softly, his arm closing around Dani’s elbow. “He loves you. This whole situation is hard for him too,”  
  
“I get that,” Dani sighs. “But it’s okay for him right now, he knows how to ride his bike properly, and the names of all his mechanics - and he knows what happened between me and Alberto,”  
  
“I understand that, and he does too,” Marc again sounds older than he actually is. “But he is trying. Think of it this way, maybe he thought you would ask for the ring back because _ you _ wanted to wear it, not because Alberto told you that you should,”  
  
The little bastard is right. Dani curses under his breath. “I need to see Jorge,”  
  
Marc’s hand grabs onto his wrist. “No, no. Give him time,”  
  
And so Dani does. He watches Jorge take pole position, Alberto silently fuming in the background as the Majorcan pulls into parc ferme, his fist tangling with Marc’s in celebration. Marc returns the gesture with one of his trademark smiles, and Dani feels his heart twist at the expression on Jorge’s face.  
  
His eyes flicker down towards the ring circling his finger, and he feels the guilt rise up inside him. He pushes it away, as he manages to get through the debrief with his mechanics. He can feel the cameras on him at one point, but tries to ignore them as his mind becomes weighed down with all the race data and everything he needs to remember - he’s thankful to leave the garage, his head thumping as his legs carry him away-  
  
“Pedrosa,” Alberto corners him before he disappears. “Why did you not go to your media pen duties?”  
  
“I forgot, I’m sorry,”  
  
The expression on Alberto’s face does not change. He grabs hold of Dani’s wrist. “Well, I suggest that you start remembering things, Daniel,” His eyes flicker down to Dani’s finger, the smile curling over his lips as he takes in the sight of the ring. “Good boy,”  
  
Dani feels like he’s 17 again, unable to move or wrench himself away from the man who made him what he is.  
  
“Dani?” Marc’s voice cuts through the silence and Alberto drops his wrist like it burns.  
  
Jorge doesn’t speak to him for the remainder of the weekend, and it hurts. The Majorcan ends up winning the race, and celebrates in his typical over-the-top fashion, pumping the air with his fist. He launches himself into the crowd of red and white, crowing at the top of his lungs in Spanish whilst they cheer his name in the atypical passionate Italian way. Dani pulls into the P3 slot, and slumps against his bike, utterly spent. He is clapped on the back by some members of his team - he still doesn’t remember their names - and Marc pulls him into a hug, before everything passes in a swirl of camera flashes and cheers and Spanish flags - it’s overwhelming to say the least.  
  
Dani doesn’t know how he gets through parc ferme. He’s thankful that all the questions are focused on the race, so he doesn’t have to think too hard about his answers. The only time he slips is during the podium ceremony when Jorge barely acknowledges him. It _ stings. _ _  
_ _  
_

* * *

_  
_ Marc ends up dragging him back to his motorhome after the press conference, and Dani is thankful to the younger man. He wordlessly tosses Dani a hoodie and then proceeds to laugh when Dani tugs it on to find the shoulders are looser and there’s a giant x-fuera decorating the front of it. Silence settles over the teammates, Dani glancing down at the hoodie with a fond smile on his face as Marc grabs the ice-cream out of the fridge that Dani keeps there for emergencies.  
  
“He cares about you so much, you know that don’t you?” Marc says, breaking the silence. The world champion sits cross-legged next to Dani, opening up the carton.  
  
“I know,” Dani replies softly. “And I get why he is angry. But he doesn’t understand what it feels like to lose half your identity. He doesn’t know what it was like with me and Alberto,”  
  
“True,” Marc hands him a spoon. “But Jorge does know what went on after you two went public,”  
  
Dani glances at the younger man. “What do you mean?”  
  
“It’s better coming from Jorge than from me,” Marc takes a spoonful of ice cream and shoves it into his mouth.  
  
“If he ever talks to me ever again,” Dani stares at the hoodie, sighing heavily as the scent of Jorge hits him. “I think I ruined everything,”  
  
“Jorge loves you,” Marc pulls the spoon out of his mouth, looking thoughtful. “I’ve never known two people more perfect for each other,”  
  
Dani laughs. “I doubt you would have said that if you’d have seen us when we were 15. Literally hated each other’s guts,”  
  
“Well, to be honest, he had awful hair then,” Marc says and Dani can’t stop the laugh from brushing past his lips.  
  
“Anyway, enough of my problems. Tell me about you and Vale,”  
  
Marc’s cheeks immediately turn red at the mention of the Italian’s name. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, something is going on there right? He was interested in you even when you were a tiny thing in 125cc, you’ve probably been together longer than me and Jorge, right?”  
  
Marc bites his lip. “Not exactly,” He puts the spoon down. “It’s a long story-”  
  
“I’ve got time,” Dani says with a smile.  
  
Marc sighs. “It started in 2013, when I joined MotoGP. He flirted with me from the beginning, but he was always careful never to let it get out of hand-” He pauses for a moment. “He kissed me for the first time in America when I won my first race and after that, it just became something else. We ended up sleeping together after his win in Assen that season, and then it was casual after that. It was whenever he wanted to meet, and after I won my first title, I felt like I was finally worthy-”  
  
Dani swallows hard. “I understand that feeling,”  
  
Marc fiddles with the toggle on his own hoodie, some hideous Pull and Bear thing with his name emblazoned all over it in bright pink letters. “I felt like we were equals. But he didn’t see it like that. I won the year after that too but he still saw me as below him. Then 2015 happened,”  
  
“What happened in 2015?”  
  
“Sepang happened. Vale - well, he basically told the press that I was destroying the sport-” Marc murmurs. “Then he ruined my race, and Jorge ended up beating him to the tenth title. He blamed me for everything,” Marc bites his lip, his fingers stilling on the toggle. “I honestly thought that was it, and I blamed myself for him breaking my heart-”  
  
“Marc, I am so sorry,”  
  
“But Luis passed away in 2016, and we shook hands after the race. He came to see me and told me what a stupid mistake he had made, and we put everything behind us - you told me that I was stupid for taking him back,” Marc lets out a low laugh, not typical of his usual barking one that seems to fill the room. “And since then, we’ve been dating but he doesn’t want anything serious,”  
  
“You’ve been dating for two years?” Dani raises an eyebrow.  
  
Marc nods, a small smile curling on his lips. “What can I say? The sex is amazing,”  
  
Dani throws a pillow at him.  
_  
_

* * *

  
“Congratulations on the win, Yorg,” Valentino’s familiar drawl knocks Jorge out of his daydream. The italian stands in the doorway of Jorge’s motorhome, holding a bottle of whiskey. Jorge mutters a curse under his breath as Valentino sinks into the couch next to him. “What happened between you and Dani? You barely looked at him on the podium today,”  
  
“He’s letting Puig control him again. That prick told him to put his wedding ring back on to get the press off his back,”  
  
Valentino sighs. “It’s not Dani’s fault. Besides, he doesn’t know what went down between them during the time that you came out,”  
  
“I know that,” Jorge hisses, snatching the bottle away from Valentino’s hand. He uncorks it, and tipping it up to his lips, he takes a deep pull of the amber liquid. Wincing as the liquid trickles down his throat, he passes it over to his ex-teammate. “That is fucking nasty,”  
  
“I know,” Valentino replies, wincing as he takes a pull of the whiskey himself. “And let me guess, instead of telling Dani what is bothering you, you’re ignoring him instead?”  
  
Jorge groans. “Like you’re avoiding Marc, because you’re terrified of commitment?”  
  
Valentino winces again, and Jorge is certain it’s not down to the whiskey. “He’s too good for me,” He croaks out, glancing down at the bottle. “He’s young, and talented and he’s wasted most of his life waiting for me. I just feel like I’m holding him back,”  
  
“Vale. He loves you. He doesn’t want anyone else,” Jorge shakes his head as he takes the bottle again and takes another swig. “You’ve had his heart for an awful long time. Why are you so scared to commit?”  
  
“Because he might realise that it was a mistake to stay and waste his life on someone like me,”  
  
“Someone like you? Vale, you’re a nine time world champion. I don’t think there’s anyone more worthy to be with Marc. Who cares what happened in the past? You hurt each other, you put each other back together. Besides, you don’t want to be in mine and Dani’s situation-” Jorge lowers the bottle. “What if he was to forget everything about you?”  
  
“It would kill me,” Valentino says, looking solemn. “I don’t know how you’re managing,”  
  
“I’m not,” Jorge admits. “It’s hard, sometimes. I just want to shake him and have him remember me, the way I remember him - like him smiling at me on our wedding day, not him remembering how much of a dick I was in my teenage years,”  
  
“But that’s hard to forget,” Valentino smirks as he elbows the younger man, grabbing the bottle back.  
  
“Fuck you, I was a delight,” Jorge tuts, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t to Dani-”  
  
“I can’t believe that you managed to persuade him to marry you without alcohol being involved,”  
  
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked Marc yet,” Vale freezes at the statement, the bottle pausing before it reaches his lips. “I mean, you have thought about it haven’t you?”  
  
“I always thought he would say no,”  
  
“It’s Marc, you _ idiot, _ ”Jorge says, shaking his head. “He would say yes, if you proposed with a fucking gummy ring,”  
  
Valentino _ grins _ at that, passing the bottle back to Jorge.  
  
“Where the fuck are you going, Vale? I didn’t actually mean that!” Jorge swears under his breath as he throws the bottle to one side, sprinting after the lanky Italian.

* * *

  
Jorge isn’t sure where Valentino managed to acquire the gummy ring from, but it’s certainly a sight to behold watching the Italian get down on one knee in front of a wide-eyed Marc. 

“Marc Márquez, whatever your other name is,” Valentino says, his blue eyes fixed on the young Spaniard. “I’ve been such an idiot-”  
  
Jorge meets Dani’s gaze, and watches the older man raise an eyebrow. But they both remain silent as Valentino continues with his speech, his hand still wrapped around Marc’s. “And I know I’m not the best person in the world, but I don’t think I’ve loved anyone as much as you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, proving that-” He bites down on his lip, pausing. “What I am trying to say is, will you marry me Marc Márquez?”  
  
Marc just stares at Valentino as the tears stream down his face, before the famous Márquez smile slowly spreads over his face and he throws himself into Valentino’s arms. “Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you!”  
  
Dani bites back a smile as Valentino slides the gummy ring over Marc’s finger, their mouths meeting against one another, their bodies melting into one as Marc’s hands fist into Valentino’s curls as another memory forces itself to the forefront of his mind at the sight of the gummy ring on Marc’s finger -  
  
_ Dani feels the anxiety bite, curling in his lower stomach as Jorge drops down on one knee in front of the fountain. The lights illuminate his dark green eyes and the enormous diamond shining from the silver band. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge, what are you doing?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I put the ring in your champagne three months ago, and you poured it down the sink. I had to fucking call Vale to help him get it out, then you fell off your bike in Qatar the day I planned to ask and we had to go to the hospital. But anyway, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you will have me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Ask me,” Dani whispers, tears pricking up in his eyes. “Ask me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Daniel Pedrosa Ramal, will you marry me?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” Dani cries as he falls forward into Jorge’s arms. His lips find Jorge’s, his hands moving to gently cup the Majorcan’s cheeks as he kisses the man he loves. Jorge returns the kiss with equal fervour, his lips brushing away the salty tears that sit on Dani’s cheeks. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge gently pulls away after a moment, his hands slightly shaking as he takes Dani’s left hand in his own. The ring slides into position perfectly, the diamond looking enormous against Dani’s finger. Dani admires the ring for a moment in silence. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge bites his lip. “You hate it, don’t you? It’s too much?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani shakes his head. “I love it, because you picked it out for me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge smiles in return, pressing his lips against Dani’s ring and Dani commits the smile to memory. It’s one that nobody but Dani is privy to, and he feels so special in that moment. _

Dani jolts out of the memory at the sound of his name being called. He blinks twice, Jorge suddenly appearing before his eyes, his dark green eyes as vivid as Dani’s memory, fix their gaze upon him. His hand is wrapped around Dani’s. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Where are Marc and Vale?” Dani blinks, realising that they’re alone in his motorhome.  
  
“Told Vale to take him back to his own motorhome and celebrate their engagement alone. I didn’t want them to start having sex in here...I wouldn’t put it past Vale,”  
  
Dani chuckles. “I remembered your wedding proposal to me,”  
  
Jorge averts his gaze, worrying his lip. “What did you think?”  
  
“I didn’t know you were capable of being so romantic,” Dani smiles, squeezing Jorge’s hand. Jorge glances down at the ring, still circling Dani’s finger and closes his eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry,”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Being an asshole about the ring. I knew they would ask questions about it - I just thought they might respect our privacy. They didn’t know we were married until I announced it on instagram,”  
  
Dani feels himself chuckle. “Of course, you announced it on instagram,”  
  
Jorge hands him his phone and Dani catches a glimpse of Jorge’s background, a photo of the pair of them on holiday somewhere, shirtless with wide smiles - before he brings up his instagram account.  
  
** _Jorgelorenzo99:_ ** Happiest day of my life. #JLP  
  
Jorge’s captions were never detailed in their description, but the photo leaves no doubt - it’s black and white, classic, organic. Dani stares at them, hand in hand strolling down the aisle, covered in confetti. They’re not looking at the camera, their gazes are locked on each other. He feels his heart slam against his chest at the photo. There’s only one name tagged in the photo - Dani’s name, leaving no shred of doubt.  
  
“You banned me from updating everyone on the honeymoon, said you didn’t want our sex life all over instagram,” Jorge smirks as he takes his phone back. “Was probably for the best as everyone went insane over that post,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dani whispers quietly, fiddling with the toggles of Jorge’s hoodie.  
  
“For what? I think it would have been too much to broadcast how much we were shagging over in Majorca-”  
  
“For asking for the ring back,” Dani says softly. He glances down at the ring still sitting on his finger. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t think-”  
  
“It’s okay,” Jorge murmurs back, his hand moving to slowly close over Dani’s. “I get it,”  
  
“Alberto is just so different from the person I remember,” Dani turns his eyes to rest on Jorge. “I don’t understand it? All I can remember is him being angry at me for wanting to be with you and that doesn’t make sense. He knew I was gay,”  
  
“Because in his mind, he was happy with you being gay but not being with me,” Jorge explains, trying to keep his voice soft. “Try not to let him upset you,”  
  
“But it’s worrying me, Jorge. What if he’s trying to get rid of me? It’s obvious that he favours Marc over me these days, and he’s the boss of Honda,”  
  
“Dani,” Jorge’s hand squeezes harder. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,”  
  
“I’m just scared, Jorge,” Dani admits, leaning against the taller man’s shoulder, his eyes falling shut. “I’m scared that he’s going to end my career. He’s the one who started it - all he has to do is prove that I am a liability-”  
  
“That is not going to happen,” Jorge’s hands slowly move to cup Dani’s face. “I will not let that prick do this to you,”  
  
Dani wants nothing more than to lean in and close the gap between himself and Jorge. He wants to kiss the younger man, but instead he bites down on his lip, his hand moving to cup over Jorge’s. “Thank you, Jorge,”

* * *

  
The urge to kiss Jorge plagues Dani even when they head back to Lugano. He chooses to stay in the spare room, eager to place some distance between himself and his husband - and it’s still strange to refer to Jorge by that title - but he finds himself lying awake late at night, returning to Jorge’s instagram page.  
  
It’s very Jorge-like - the photo is a face that Dani knows well, the surly face of a young child with muddy cheeks and childhood dreams. But the name at the top of the profile makes his heart jump.  
  
** _Jorge Lorenzo-Pedrosa _ ** ** _  
_ **  
His most recent photos are ones of him at the race, celebrating in his Ducati leathers, all smiles for the camera, covered in champagne. But there’s a glimpse of the true Jorge in between all of that, sure Jorge loves winning - but there’s a few parts of their former life peppered in and amongst the selfies of Jorge and the photos of race weekends.  
  
There’s one of them, with the pair of them curled up. It’s fairly tame, he just knows that they’re naked under those sheets.  
  
** _Jorgelorenzo99_ ** : Quality time with this one <3 @26_danipedrosa  
  
They look happy and content, and Dani finds himself wanting that life back. He clicks on his own profile, which is much simpler than Jorge and all of his endorsements. He finds his own post about the wedding, similar black and white photo, simple caption.  
  
** _26_danipedrosa_ ** : amor.  
  
He throws his phone to the side, his mouth dry and his brain in overdrive.

* * *

  
_ “I want a divorce,” Jorge announces, pulling off his wedding ring. His eyes are no longer the warm hazel-green that Dani knows well. This Jorge is all hard edges, the Jorge that is media ready, the Jorge of their teenage years who built up walls around him for years. “I can’t do this anymore, Dani,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Please don’t,” Dani whispers, shaking his head. “You promised, you promised that you weren’t going to give up on me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I tried, Dani, but it’s too hard. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve fallen out of love with you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You don’t mean that,” Dani says, shaking his head as he moves closer to the Majorcan, his shaking hands moving to cup Jorge’s cheeks. “Please, Jorge, we can try again-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I don’t love you, Dani,” Jorge’s eyes are like onyx. “I don’t love you anymore,” He slowly pushes Dani’s hands away from his face, his hand grabbing hold of Dani’s. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “No, please don’t-” Dani whispers, shaking his head as Jorge wrenches the ring from his finger, leaving it bare. “Jorge, please don’t do this-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You did this,” Jorge snarls, waving the ring around, the diamond shining in the light like a taunt. “You were the one who lost all your memories, you were the one who forgot me, Dani. I couldn’t wait around forever, could I?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge!” _ _  
_ _  
_ Dani wrenches himself upright, panting heavily, the sheets pooling around his waist as he glances around the darkened room. It takes him a minute to realise that he’s in their guest room. With shaking fingers, he turns on the bedside light, glancing down to his finger. The silver band shines in the dim light and Dani feels himself breathing a sigh of relief.  
  
But the anxiety won’t go away. He finds himself pulling himself free of the warmth of the bed to pad down the hallway towards Jorge’s room - his and Jorge’s room, he corrects himself. He hesitates outside the door for a moment before slowly pushing it open. The room looks fairly normal in the dim light of the hallway. The bed - _ their bed - _ is enormous, all rumpled, white sheets, beneath which Jorge is presumably sleeping. There’s another photograph of them above the bed - this one of them on their bikes, their hands lacing - where it all began. Dani also notes a pair of helmets on a shelf by the window.   
  
One of them is clearly his own - it’s evident from the blue and white, the Red Bull logo prevalent throughout the entire design. But there’s a small addition to the Dani that sits under his samurai logo, Jorge’s surname. The other helmet is Jorge’s, the clear opposite of Dani’s, all matte black and white, with a touch of red on the x-fuera. But at the base of the helmet, in italic script, are the initials _ JLP. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Do you think this is a good idea?” Dani looks up from the helmet to meet his husband’s gaze. “I mean, Yamaha won’t be happy about you promoting this surely?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “They can get fucked,” Jorge says, his finger running over the three letters, lingering on the P for a moment too long. “It’s my name isn’t it?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge,” Dani gives him the look, and Jorge sighs heavily. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “They’re not happy about me marrying my rival, no. But they don’t have a choice, and it’s my helmet. I can put whatever I want on it. I could make it rainbow if I wanted,” _ _  
_ _  
_ “Dani?”  
  
The memory disappears as Dani’s gaze finds Jorge staring at him from the bed, all wide eyes and mussed hair. He blinks at the sight of the older man. “Are you alright?”  
  
Dani bites down on his lip at the sight of the dark eyes that looked so much like the ones in his dream earlier, but this time, they hold concern.  
  
“Come here,” Jorge says softly, pushing the sheets down. Dani can’t help but stare at the pale, unmarked skin of Jorge’s torso, the light freckles dancing down to where a pair of neon orange boxer shorts sits. “Dani?”  
  
Dani bites down on his lip, knowing that he shouldn’t, not with how his feelings are all over the place, but he does. He lays down next to Jorge, hating himself for liking how his body fits against the taller man’s.  
  
“What happened?” Jorge’s touch is warm and solid, almost supportive. “Are you alright?”  
  
Dani glances down at his finger, and spots the silver band circled around it. “I had a horrible dream that you wanted a divorce, and I-”  
  
“It’s okay, it was just a dream, okay?” Jorge’s voice is soft, his hand slowly stroking over Dani’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving you,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dani murmurs, taking in the dark circles under Jorge’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, maybe it would be better if I left-”  
  
“No,” Jorge says, his voice sounding panicked. “Don’t leave,”  
  
“But you deserve better than me,” Dani says, fighting the urge to lean into Jorge’s touch. “You deserve a husband who remembers you,”  
  
“I don’t want anyone else,” Jorge whispers, his eyes greener than usual, wet with unshed tears. “I want _ you, _ ” He glances at the shorter man. “When you’re ready, and if you want to,”  
  
“Jorge-”  
  
“Dani,” Jorge says, softly. “I don’t want you going anywhere,”  
  
“I just - I just want to remember, and it’s so confusing,” Dani leans against Jorge’s shoulder. He can feel the steady thud of the younger man’s heart against his ear. “I want to know everything, what if I am stuck like this forever? You can’t carry on pretending that everything is okay between us,”  
  
“I said I’d love you for better and for worse,” Jorge says, shaking his head. “I promised that I’d love you no matter what,”  
  
“You promised somebody else that,”  
  
“No, I didn’t. You’re still the same person I fell in love with, the same person that I married,”  
Jorge cuts in, his heartbeat slowly picking up.  
  
Dani has no answer for the Majorcan, except to press his lips against Jorge’s. Jorge melts against him, his lips warm and pliant. Jorge’s beard is scratchy against his chin, but he doesn’t care. He fists one hand into the back of Jorge’s hair, fingers digging into the thick curls as the kiss deepens. Dani feels the groan in the back of his throat as he swipes his tongue over Jorge’s lips.  
  
However, Jorge pulls away before Dani can go further, ripping his lips away from the shorter man. “Dani, what the fuck was that?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Dani says, biting down on his lip.  
  
“You can’t just kiss me like _ that_, Dani,” Jorge rubs a hand over his face. “You can’t do that,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dani whispers, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, I’ll go-” He pulls himself away from Jorge with a heavy heart, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.  
  
“Dani-” Jorge begins, trying to grab hold of his wrist. “Dani,”  
  
But Dani shrugs off the touch, and disappears out of the bedroom - their bedroom - whilst Jorge stares at the door, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in his lips at Dani’s touch.

* * *

  
“Is there any particular reason that you’re calling me at 7AM?” Valentino’s annoyed, sleepy tones drifts through the phone. Jorge fiddles with the zip of his jacket as he hears the shuffle of mussed sheets and a familiar Spanish accent he knows well. “Was going to enjoy my morning blowjob,”  
  
Jorge feels his cheeks heat up. “Dani kissed me last night,”  
  
Jorge hears a sigh, and a stolen kiss from Valentino’s mouth, presumably against Marc’s forehead. “And can I ask why you’re calling me instead of talking to him about it?”  
  
“I’m on my way to another meeting. I think I’m going to sign the contract today,”  
  
Valentino curses under his breath. “Yorg. This is not going to end well for either of you. You should tell him, before Honda do,”  
  
“I can’t tell him right now,” Jorge says, tapping on his steering wheel. “He’s already confused as it is, with everything going on between us,”  
  
“Fine. Let Puig tell him that his husband is taking his ride next season. He’s never going to forgive you, Jorge, memories intact or not. You’re the only person he trusts right now and you’re going to throw that away because you think you’re protecting him? He needs to know, Jorge, and you have to be the one to tell him,”  
  
“I have to go,”  
  
“Jorge-”  
  
“Gotta go,” Jorge snaps, ending the call as he throws the phone into the passenger seat. The screen illuminates, and the photograph of Dani seems to taunt him silently.

* * *

  
Dani wakes up the next morning to find himself wrapped up in mussed sheets, groaning as he takes in the sight of the guest room and he remembers what transpired between himself and Jorge the previous night. He slowly pulls himself from the warmth of the bed and slowly pads across the landing towards Jorge’s room - their room, he corrects himself. The curtains are open wide and the bed is neatly made, with no sign of the Majorcan man. Dani glances around the rest of the room - it’s fairly plain, all white walls and open spaces with few personal effects. There’s a few books and an alarm clock on one side of the bed, the other contains a pair of sunglasses and an expensive watch that can only belong to Jorge.  
  
Dani opens up the built up wardrobe, his eyes taking in the sight of clothes that he knows belong to him - plaid shirts, and faded t-shirts, mixed in with Jorge’s designer labels. He spots a large blue book on the top shelf. His curiosity piqued, he drags over the chair from the desk and leans up to pick the book from the shelf.  
  
Dani opens the first page, and there’s another photo of him and Jorge at their wedding. This one looks a little more professional, their backs are facing the camera and their hands are entwined. DP + JL are spelt out on the back of Jorge’s white tux in what appears to be diamantes, but Dani is drawn to the expression on his face. He’s staring at Jorge like he is the only person in the world, like he’s the only one that matters. He tears his eyes away for a moment, closing the book. He’s about to place it back when he thinks about something his doctor said back at the hospital.  
  
_ Photographs can spark memories, try and look at photographs of important memories. _  
  
The apartment is silent, Dani notices as he pads down the stairs towards the coffee machine. There’s a note lying on the side, and when Dani picks it up, he recognises the messy scrawl. The coffee brews as Dani reads the short note.  
  
_ Gone to a meeting. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Call Vale or Eric if there’s any problems. _ _  
_ _ Jorge x _  
  
Dani feels his heart slam against his chest at the sight of the kiss attached to the end of Jorge’s name. He places the note back down and slowly pours himself a cup of coffee, realising that he’s picked the cup - the one with DLP, presumably his married name - scrawled onto it in italics. He opens the book up again, sipping from his cup as he perches on one of the stools by the breakfast bar.  
  
There’s a few photos he recognises. There’s one of himself winning his first 250cc championship, wrapped up in his enormous blue t-shirt, all of eighteen years old. There’s another of Jorge as a young kid wearing the scowl that Dani knows so well and his hair shaved into the infamous star design. There’s another of them with their thighs pressed against one another from the 250cc class if Jorge’s awful hair and Dani’s youthful face are anything to go by. But suddenly, the photographs change. There’s one of them embracing in parc ferme, Jorge’s fond smile just visible on his lips as their hands meet. There’s another one of them in a press conference, heads bent together and ignoring everything around them, eyes locked on one another.  
  
Another photo of them in parc ferme that makes Dani stop. It looks like Phillip Island, the crowds are behind them, but the two men in the shot are focused on nothing but each other. Jorge is kissing him on the mouth in front of everyone.  
  
_ “Congratulations, champ,” Dani says, smiling as he slaps Jorge’s hand in celebration. “Knew you could do it, I am so proud of you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge nods. “I know you’ll kill me for what I’m about to do - but I’m sick of hiding it,” He murmurs and before Dani can ask him what he means, he seizes the shorter man and presses their lips against one another. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ The cameras go off in their faces, but Dani doesn’t care. All his attention is on the man in front of him. _  
  
The photo is accompanied by a newspaper clipping.  
  
** _Lorenzo: The first gay MotoGP champion?_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _Jorge Lorenzo celebrated clinching his third MotoGP title yesterday by embracing fellow title rival Dani Pedrosa with a passionate kiss in parc ferme at the Australian Grand Prix yesterday. The 25 year old, from Majorca left no doubt about the gesture. “I am world champion, and I wanted to celebrate with my boyfriend.”_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _  
_ ** Another one of them, behind the motorhomes somewhere, Dani holding up a pliant Jorge who is winking at the camera.  
  
_ “Maybe he shouldn’t race,” Dani worries his lip as he glances at his boyfriend. “He’s drugged up to your eyeballs,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m fine,” Jorge slurs out, his hands moving to slowly pull the zip of the leathers down. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Valentino stiffens at the contact, pushing Jorge’s hands away. “Hey, cut it out Yorg. I’m not your boyfriend. Stop touching me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge giggles. “If I win the race, will you marry me?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Valentino freezes at Jorge’s words. “You’re lucky you’re on painkillers Yorg,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I mean it,” Jorge’s face turns serious. “I want you to marry me, Dani” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Valentino levels Dani with a look of panic before he turns to Jorge and says slowly. “I’m not Dani,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge leans in and tries to press a sloppy kiss against Valentino’s cheek. “I love you, Dani,” _ _  
_ _  
_ He glances up from the photograph, panting widely. He _ remembers _ . He remembers how he had asked Jorge the next day when he was more or less sober what he had meant, if he had meant it and Jorge had stared at him, his fingers finding Dani’s and told him that he meant every word.  
  
He turns through the pages quickly as his head spins. A photograph of Jorge standing in the empty lounge. Dani holding a set of keys and beaming at the camera. A photograph of them presumably on some holiday somewhere in bed together, and another of them by the Eiffel Tower staring into each other’s eyes. What looks like presumably a double date with Valentino and Marc -  
  
Their wedding. The photo of Jorge that was taken as he saw Dani walk down the aisle.  
  
_ “Did you really get our initials in crystals on the back of your tux?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You look beautiful, Dani,” Jorge whispers, his eyes taking in the man in front of him. “God, I’m the luckiest man alive,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge, you’re ignoring my question.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I wanted it to be special, and I know you said no gimmicks, but Philipp said it would look great in our wedding photos...besides, everyone is going to be looking at you, not me-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Have you seen yourself?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Several times in the mirror whilst I tried to talk myself into not fucking this up for myself,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You never could,” _ _  
_ _  
_Another photo of them cutting their wedding cake, the two tiny figurines made of modelling chocolate in matching Yamaha and Honda leathers standing on the top. One of them sitting at the top table, watching Valentino give his speech as best man - 

_"So, as most of you know, Jorge Lorenzo is a dick. I know this firsthand, with being his teammate for so long. He has the worst haircuts imaginable and terrible fashion sense, and I hold him responsible for my criminal record in Catalonia. I met Jorge when he was an angry kid, just fresh from 250cc and there was this short little Spanish fucker that he could not stand. He would go on and on about that damned Pedrosa for hours - “ Valentino pauses for a minute. “But something changed. They began to tolerate each other and Jorge stopped complaining. It wasn’t until I found them screwing in Jorge’s motorhome in Aragon I realised-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge throws him the look. “But since then, Jorge has grown up and he managed to propose to Dani without adult supervision! And well, here we all are now celebrating their love to one another. I honestly can say that I don’t know of two people more suited to one another and one day, I hope to find someone who loves and respects me the way you two do - and I think I speak for all of us when I say, congratulations Dani on making an honest man out of Jorge. We never thought this day would arrive,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge reluctantly embraces Valentino as he stands up, ready to make his own speech. “First of all, me and my husband-” He glances at Dani whilst the room cheers, “would like to thank you all for coming today. Like Vale said, when I was a kid, I never dreamt that one day I would end up marrying my rival. But Dani taught me so much. He taught me to love, to cherish, to respect, he taught me that it was okay to cry and comfort one another, he taught me how to trust another person and what love truly is. I am honestly the luckiest man in the world and I want to thank you all again for joining us today.” _ _  
_ _  
_ Dani feels the tears fall down his cheeks as he turns the pages of the album, his head overrun with memory upon memory of Jorge - another photograph of them on their honeymoon, both shirtless, holding up an enormous fish between them -  
  
A photograph of them at a gala together, with wide smiles. Another of Dani watching him try on his new Ducati overalls -  
  
_ “Why didn’t you tell me about Ducati?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Jorge sighs heavily. “Babe, I’m not talking about that right now-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Jorge, I’m your husband. You’re supposed to tell me about these things. I looked like an idiot in front of all those media, and now they’re asking me if we’re going through a rough patch,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Then don’t speak to them,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Don’t push me away, Jorge. I’m your husband,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Then quit pushing me!” Jorge snaps, zipping up the front of his new Ducati jacket. “All you would have done is try to talk me out of it,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I just don’t understand why you would want to leave Yamaha. Is it a pride thing? You want to tame the beast that Vale could not? They haven’t had a champion in years,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “What would you know? You’ve never changed teams. You’re just happy to stay at Honda and be second best. Maybe if you moved, you might be a champion someday-” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani slaps him across the face, his teeth gritted in anger, tears falling down his cheeks. “Fuck you, Jorge. Fuck you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ Dani closes his eyes as the memory washes over him. He remembers how much those words stung, and the expression on Jorge’s face as he walked away. He turns the pages, watching their relationship unfold before his eyes as Jorge struggles with the beast that is the Ducati. There’s a photo of them wrapped around one another, after Qatar, if their sweaty skin and hair is anything to go by. Jorge’s head is pressed against Dani’s chest, Dani’s head resting on top of Jorge’s hair, his eyes closed.  
  
_ “I’m sorry,” Jorge whispers against his leathers. “I’m sorry for pushing you away and hurting you, I just didn’t want you to talk me out of leaving Yamaha,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I will support you through anything, you know that,” Dani strokes Jorge’s hair slowly. “I would never judge you.” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I know, I’m sorry,” Jorge says softly. “I’m a shit husband,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “You’re not a shit husband. I just want you to tell me these things, Jorge. I want you to be open and honest with me,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I will,” Jorge nuzzles into Dani’s chest. “I’ve missed you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ The photographs seem to showcase Dani’s support of Jorge throughout the next year. They stand next to each other in Catalunya, Dani’s eyes filled with eyes, Jorge finally savouring success with Ducati -  
  
_ Dani blinks back tears as the Spanish anthem slowly plays out over the cheers of the crowd. He’s done it, he’s proven everyone wrong, all the doubters that think he is past it and should just vanquish his seat and allow Marc to become the best. He rubs at his eyes, letting the cheers roll over him before he pulls the cap further down his face to hide his eyes. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I’m proud of you,” Jorge whispers as he pulls the shorter man in for a hug - they’re the same height with Dani standing on the higher podium place. “So proud of you,” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani never wants that moment to end. He feels the sting of the cava against his eyes as Jorge grins widely at him, the warmth of his husband’s arm sliding around his waist as they lean over the railing, posing for the cameras - _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I love you so much,” Jorge whispers, ensuring that only Dani can hear those three special words. _ _  
_ _  
_ “Dani? Dani? Fuck,” Dani blinks as the memories disappear, finding himself leaning against Jorge’s chest as concerned green eyes fix on him. “Dani?”  
  
“I remember,” Dani whispers, his dark eyes locking on his husband’s. “I remember everything,” He murmurs, before his eyes slip shut and he falls against Jorge’s chest, unaware of the younger man shaking him and calling his name in desperation.

* * *

  
"What do you mean he passed out?” Valentino’s voice is low enough, but carries the anger that Dani can identify immediately.  
  
“He remembers,” Jorge says and Dani can pick out his husband stalking down and forth on the floor. “And I was in that stupid meeting,”  
  
Valentino curses under his breath. “And I assume you haven’t told him yet?”  
  
“It wasn’t the right time!”  
  
“You signed the contract,” Valentino hisses, his voice barely audible. “You have to tell him, they are going to announce in Assen and you can’t put him through that,”  
  
Dani is pulled under the veil of sleep once more.

* * *

  
When Dani awakens again, it’s to the sensation of someone brushing his hair back. He knows those callouses off by heart, the scent of a familiar cologne -  
  
“Jorge,” He murmurs, blinking back the sleep from his eyes. “Jorge-”  
  
“Don’t move, you passed out against me and you’ve been asleep since. The doctor said it was like a memory overload and you needed rest,” His fingers slowly brush through Dani’s short hair. “I was worried about you,”  
  
Dani turns his cheek against Jorge’s hand. “I’m fine,”  
  
“You collapsed, Dani,”  
  
“I’m fine,” Dani’s eyes flicker to meet Jorge’s dark green ones, a small smile brushing over his lips. “I remember, I remember everything,” He surges forward and his lips connect with Jorge’s. Jorge opens his mouth in surprise, and Dani takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past his husband’s chapped lips. Jorge moans at the contact, his body immediately melting against Dani’s, his hands moving to gently tug on the curls at the nape of Dani’s neck as the older man deepens the kiss, Jorge’s name brushing between his swollen lips -  
  
“That’s quite enough of that,” A familiar Italian twang cuts through the silence. “Honestly, you two make me sick,”  
  
Dani pulls his lips away, blush staining his cheeks as he takes in the sight of Valentino leaning in the doorway, wearing his trademark smirk. “Good to have you back, Pedrosa,”  
  
Dani smiles, his eyes turning back to Jorge, his hand moving to slot into the Majorcan’s. “It’s good to be back,”

* * *

  
Dani tries to throw himself back into his old life, but there’s a feeling that he can’t shake off - a feeling that something isn’t quite right. Jorge is acting strange and at first, Dani chalks it up to everything they’ve been through over the past couple of weeks. But there’s something that doesn’t quite fit. Jorge keeps disappearing off to meetings that he can’t tell Dani about, and they are yet to have sex since Dani regained his memories.  
  
They slowly kiss, Dani on top of Jorge as they roll around in the mussed sheets of their bed - Dani smiling as Jorge gasps out underneath him, whispering his name over and over again - it’s a sound that Dani is certain he will never forget. Dani deepens the kiss as his fingers move to slowly skim underneath Jorge’s boxer shorts, and the Majorcan immediately stiffens at the contact.  
  
“Dani, we can’t-”  
  
“Why not?” Dani asks, feeling the hurt squeeze his chest as Jorge pushes him away. “We’re married, Jorge. We haven’t had sex since I lost my memory-”  
  
“I know, I just _ can’t, _ ” Jorge doesn’t meet his gaze. “It doesn’t feel right,”  
  
And it’s not the only thing that doesn’t feel right about Jorge. He barely initiates any contact between himself and Dani - and he guards his phone like he never had before. Dani tries to pretend that everything is okay between them, tells himself that it’s just Jorge readjusting to having his husband back, but there’s a tiny niggle in the back of his mind.  
  
“I think Jorge is having an affair,” He spits the words out, and waits for the reaction.  
  
Eric sighs heavily. “What makes you think that?”  
  
“He’s hiding something from me,” Dani whispers, shaking his head. “He keeps trying to get out of sex with me, he never lets me near his phone anymore and he keeps going off to important meetings,”  
  
“Maybe it’s something else, Dani. I can’t see Jorge ever wanting to cheat on you. He would have stayed with you even if your memories had not returned,”  
  
“But I don’t understand-”  
  
“Look, he’s probably still trying to process everything. He’s been through a traumatic experience. His husband forgot most of their time together and then he regains his memory. You can’t just pretend something like that didn’t happen. You know Jorge better than anyone. He needs time to think about what happened,”  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” Dani sighs.  
  
“How are you anyways? You sound tired, I thought you were supposed to be resting,” Eric says, in the big-brother tone that Dani usually employs. 

Dani smiles, shaking his head. “I’m okay. I have a meeting with Honda tomorrow about my future now my memory has returned,” 

“You’ll be fine,” Eric says softly. “And don’t worry, Jorge will come around,”

* * *

  
Dani is admittedly a little nervous to be in front of Alberto Puig again after regaining his memories - the breakdown of their relationship is one of Dani’s few regrets, alongside not winning a championship. He slides into the chair, feeling like he’s 17 years old again as the older man stares him down.  
  
“Dani, nice of you to take some time out of your busy schedule to attend this meeting,” Alberto says. Dani can see past the false smile that is pasted onto his face. “Are you well?”  
  
“I have regained all my memories,” Dani replies, absent-mindedly playing with his wedding ring.  
  
“That is good to know,” Alberto’s eyes flicker to the ring for a moment. “And is Jorge well?”  
  
“He is fine. I assume that you want a doctor’s report on my condition?”  
  
Alberto waves his hand as though to dismiss Dani’s comments. “We will receive that in due course, I’m certain. We are here to discuss your future. It’s the time of the year where we decide who will be with us next season and who will be surplus to requirements-”  
  
“What does that have to do with me?”  
  
“We will not be renewing your contract, Daniel.”  
  
Dani feels the blood drain from his face as he surveys the man who was once his mentor, the only person who didn’t look at his tiny stature and judge him automatically. He can only see hatred in those eyes now, a small smile flickering over his lips. “And we’ve managed to secure your replacement-”  
  
“Who-”  
  
“Your husband,” Alberto smirks as he leans back in his chair.  
  
Dani feels the nausea rise up in his stomach as he stares at the team principal. He stands up, the chair squeaking as the legs drag across the parquet flooring of Alberto’s office. “No, no, he wouldn’t-”  
  
“He would, Daniel. He betrayed you just as I said he would. You see, people like Jorge Lorenzo don’t truly love people, they love opportunities.Why don’t you ask him how the deal came about? How long we’ve been working on it? Longer than your little incident, believe me,”  
  
Alberto’s laugh is the last thing Dani hears as he turns on his heel and sprints away from the office, away from the headquarters of Honda with tears falling down his cheeks. He fiddles with his ring as he makes the hour drive back to Lugano, his hands still shaking on the steering wheel.

* * *

  
Dani parks his car next to Jorge’s Ferrari, the nausea still curling around his stomach. He isn’t sure how he manages to get his house key in the lock, but Jorge suddenly appears from the kitchen, dressed in a hoodie that Dani recognises as one of his own and a tired smile.  
  
“I made paella to try make up for being a massive prick for the last few weeks-”  
  
“Is it true?” Dani whispers, his voice cracking on the final word. “Is it true that you’re going to Honda?”  
  
Jorge’s silence is enough of an answer.  
  
“Oh god,” Dani whispers, a sob brushing past his lips. “You didn’t-”  
  
“Dani, please listen to me-” Jorge moves towards him, his hand curling around Dani’s wrist. “Just let me explain. I wanted to tell you, but then you lost your memory and I didn’t know that they were going to tell you-”  
  
“You’re my husband!” Dani roars, ripping his hand away from Jorge’s. “ _ You’re _ supposed to tell me these things. When did this all begin?”  
  
Jorge bites his lip. “Dani-”  
  
“Tell me the truth. You owe me that!” Dani snaps, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks as Jorge’s eyes meet his own.  
  
“I approached Honda after Le Mans,” Jorge says quietly, tears shining in his own eyes. “But I swear to you, I never thought in a million years that they wanted you out. I don’t even know why I did it but they made contact with me at Mugello-”  
  
Dani feels his mouth fall open. “This has been going on since before my accident - all the time that I was lying there worrying that I was never going to remember you or my life for the past eight years, you were out, taking my seat-”  
  
“Dani, please,” Jorge’s hand ghosts over his cheek and Dani flinches at the contact.  
  
“Don’t touch me!” He snaps, pushing Jorge’s hands and excuses away. “I want you to leave,”  
  
“Dani, please don’t do this,” Jorge pleads, tears falling down his cheeks. “_Please,_”  
  
“I want you to leave, Jorge,” Dani whispers, closing his eyes. “It’s over,”  
  
Jorge falls against Dani, his hands gripping onto Dani’s jacket as the Majorcan pleads through tear-filled eyelashes, his chest heaving with sobs. But Dani just stares at him numbly, shaking his head. “I can’t do this, Jorge. Just go, _ please_,”  
  
Jorge eventually relents, pressing a soft, small kiss against Dani’s cheek before he turns on his heel and disappears up to their bedroom. Dani sits down on the couch, and before he can stop himself, he breaks down, the sobs tumbling free from his chest. He doesn’t hear Jorge slowly coming down the stairs, stopping to stare at his inconsolable husband or the click of the front door lock as it closes behind the Majorcan.  
  
Dani glances up at the photo of himself and Jorge smiling at each other on their wedding day, and sobs harder, their smiles almost taunting him.

* * *

  
“It’s been a week,” Marc says, glancing at Valentino as he tucks into the prima colazione that his fiancé has thoughtfully prepared. “He’s not showered since he got here and he’s barely eaten, aren’t you worried?”  
  
Valentino places his cappuccino down on the table, thinking intently. It has been a week since Jorge turned up on his doorstep, wearing a large backpack and a forlorn expression, tears still falling down his reddened cheeks. “Dani knows,” were the only ones he had uttered since he got here, and Valentino must admit that he is getting a little worried. Dani and Jorge rarely fight as it is, and it’s usually resolved within a day or two. “I suppose,” He says. “But there’s nothing we can do about it,”  
  
Marc’s foot brushes against Valentino’s leg and the Spaniard smirks at the older man.  
  
“Marc-” Valentino murmurs, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Marc, behave,”  
  
“Why? We’re in your house,”  
  
“Because we have a guest,” Valentino says, watching the younger man gracefully push himself out of his chair, sitting in his lap. “Marc, stop it-”  
  
“Why don’t you make me?” Marc smirks, leaning in to press their lips together. Valentino’s mouth opens underneath his, a gasp moving past his lips as Marc moans against him, his hands moving to grasp Valentino’s shoulders. “Oh god, Vale,”  
  
Valentino smirks at the way Marc says his name.  
  
“Oh for fucks sake, get a room,” Jorge’s familiar drawl fills the kitchen and Valentino reluctantly pulls his lips away from his fiance to see the Majorcan standing in front of the fridge with his arms folded, wearing his trademark smirk. However, Valentino can see the cracks in the younger man’s veneer. He can see the mussed hair that hasn’t been washed in over a week, the goatee that has now become a full beard and the dark circles that seem to have taken up permanent residence under Jorge’s eyes. Valentino doesn’t miss Jorge’s longing look at the engagement ring on Marc’s finger. He knows that Jorge is still wearing Dani’s engagement ring on the chain around his neck, he can see the diamond peeking out from underneath Jorge’s t-shirt.  
  
“You look like shit,” Valentino says, breaking the silence between the three men.  
  
Jorge flinches. “Well, there’s no point in trying anymore is there?”

“He stills cares about you, Jorge,” Marc chips in, trying to see the positive in everything. “He just needs some time,”  
  
“What would you know?” Jorge sneers, his eyes darkening with anger. “He hasn’t spoken to you either, because you knew about it and didn’t tell him,”  
  
“Jorge-”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jorge pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m sorry, I just - I just miss him so much,”  
  
“We know,” Marc says, levelling his fiance with a sympathetic glance. “Maybe you can talk to him in Assen?”

* * *

  
Jorge’s plan to try and talk to Dani at Assen backfires spectacularly when Honda releases the statement that Dani will be leaving the team at the end of the season, and he will be replacing his husband. In the wake of the news, the smaller man seems to vanish off the face of the earth, only appearing to take place in the practise sessions. Jorge can’t even go over to the garage to see where his husband is due to the press following his every move and to make matters worse, he’s forced to attend the press conference, with Dani at the opposite end of the table.  
  
It starts off okay, with Steve sticking to the race-orientated questions only, but then he opens up to the floor for questions, and once again, Jorge finds himself in the firing line.  
  
“What does your husband think about you forcing him out of a team he’s been with for 13 years?”  
  
Jorge knew it was coming, but it doesn’t stop the accusing tone in the question from stinging. “I am not telling the whole world what I discuss with my husband, that is between me and Dani,”  
  
He makes a point not to glance at Dani, but he knows that those dark brown eyes are fixed on him.  
  
“But it wasn’t a shared decision, was it? Alberto Puig said you were the one who made the approach to Honda,”  
  
“That is true,”  
  
“Question for Dani. Were you aware at any point of Jorge’s decision?”  
  
“I was not,” Dani says, in the emotionless tone he deploys so often in media sessions.  
  
“Do you think that this will have an impact on your marriage?”  
  
Dani’s eyes darken with anger. “That question is not appropriate,”  
  
“Dani, are you going to look at other rides other than Honda?”  
  
“No comment,”  
  
“Dani, are you going to retire?”  
  
“I-” Dani begins, only for Valentino to once again intervene, leaning back in his chair as he surveys the journalists.  
  
“These questions are getting out of hand. If nobody has any questions for us regarding this race in Assen, I suggest that we end this press conference,”  
  
Dani is thankful for once, for the power that Valentino wields over the media but he still refuses to catch Jorge’s eye as they line up for the photograph.

* * *

  
“Wow, the press conference photographs didn’t do you any favours. You look like shit, bro,” Dani freezes, the flowers falling on the table as he glances up to see Eric leaning in the doorway of his motorhome.  
  
“Eric,” He whispers, moving to fall into his little brother’s arms. He can feel Eric’s hand squeeze at his middle, almost probing him underneath the oversized hoodie that belongs to Jorge.  
  
“You’ve not been eating,”  
  
“I have too,” Dani argues back as they pull apart. “I had some pasta just after the media session,”  
  
“How are you holding up?” Eric says, watching his big brother carefully.  
  
“Can’t even go and sit in my garage anymore. I feel like everyone is laughing at me - like I was part of this big joke and I had no idea that I was the butt of it,” He pushes a hand through his hair.  
  
“Dani, it’s not like that at all. It’s all Puig trying to ruin you, nobody on the grid thinks of you in that way,”  
  
“It just hurts,” Dani admits, tugging on his hair as he glances at his brother. “It hurts that he didn’t tell me,”  
  
“He didn’t want to hurt you,” Eric sighs. He glances down at the flowers - red roses all wrapped up in brown paper. “Is that another bouquet of flowers from him?” He asks, already knowing the answer as he pulls the card away from the stems. Dani watches his little brother read over the card before he lays it down on the table.  
  
“Isn’t that like the third bouquet this week?” Eric asks, his eyes meeting his brother’s.  
  
Dani sighs heavily. “It’s the fourth,”  
  
“Dani-”  
  
“He’s hurt me too much,” Dani says, shaking his head. He’s tired of everyone levelling him with sympathetic gazes, telling him that he’s stupid to give up on him and Jorge. “I’ve been thinking this past few days-”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“I have been thinking about my options after my contract with Honda runs out. I think I am going to retire,”  
  
“Dani, at least think about this first. You’re still upset over this whole situation with Jorge,”  
  
“I have thought about it,”  
  
“Have you told him about it?” Eric asks.  
  
“Why would I do that? He never bothered to consult with me when he ended my career,” Dani snaps back, his eyes dark and unfeeling.  
  
“Because he’s still your husband, Dani,” Eric snarls back, his face red with anger.  
  
“Not for much longer,”  
  
Eric sighs heavily. “I love you, Dani, I really do. You don’t mean what you say, you should be honest with yourself and Jorge,”  
  
“My marriage is over,”  
  
“Then why are you still wearing your wedding ring?”  
  
Dani doesn’t have an answer for his brother. Eric sighs heavily, muttering something about his brother being a “fucking idiot”. Dani watches him leave before his hand moves to pick up the card that Eric left on the table.  
  
_ I’m sorry, please talk to me. _ _  
_ _ Love, J x _ _  
_ _  
_ He finds himself keeping the roses. _ For good luck_, he tells himself.

* * *

  
Jorge sighs heavily as he throws his phone off to the side. He didn’t expect Dani to pick up the phone, but there was a tiny part of him that wishes that Dani would pick up. He twists his wedding ring around on his finger, sighing heavily as he remembers the day that Dani placed it there. He remembers the genuine wide smile that Dani had presented him with, his hand shaking slightly as he accepts the ring from Eric.  
  
Jorge has never gone for more than three days without speaking to Dani. Assen was a washout - for both of them, Dani barely scraped into the points and Dovi had made Jorge look like an utter amateur. He thought the flowers would work at helping him to soften Dani’s heart once more, but there’s nothing but radio silence from the older man. He tries to throw himself into training for Sachsenring, not wanting to spend more time than necessary at Valentino’s house, whilst he and Marc are behaving like a newly-married couple. He had walked in on them the other night,Marc up against the wall in between Valentino’s legs, the older man thrusting into him - and he vowed that he never wanted to hear Marc calling Valentino those things ever again. Shaking his head to dispel the images, he grabs the weights again, eager to stop his thoughts bleeding into ones of Dani.  
  
“Oh god, Vale, _ si_,”  
  
Luck is not on Jorge’s side when he arrives home. Valentino looks up, his expression filled with guilt, as he’s sucking a bruise into Marc’s neck, and god, Jorge did not want to see his new teammate looking that debauched as a result of his former ex-teammate.  
  
“Jorge, you’re home early,” Marc squeaks, batting Valentino away as he tries to cover up his bare chest, which Jorge notes, is covered in similar bruises that he is sure a certain Italian is responsible for.

“Don’t worry, you can carry on your sex session-” Jorge says, waving his hand as though to dismiss the two men. “I need some alone time, anyways,”

Valentino waggles his eyebrows at Jorge’s comment. Jorge scoffs and turns on his heel, making his way up to the guest room. He slips on his headphones almost immediately, eager to mask the sound of Marc and Valentino having sex, and scans through his phone, sighing heavily at the lack of updates on Dani’s social media accounts.  
  
He types in his husband’s name on Google, and checks through the news articles.  
  
_ Pedrosa to leave Honda at the end of the season _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Pedrosa to Yamaha? _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Dani Pedrosa to retire at the end of the MotoGP season _ _  
_ _  
_ He feels the nausea rise up in the pit of his stomach as he glances through the articles - they’re all speculation for now, but they only serve to make the situation feel even more real. He hopes that Dani will move somewhere else - but there’s a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that says otherwise. He hopes he’s wrong.

* * *

  
Jorge _ hates _ being right, sometimes.  
  
Dani calls for a separate press conference at the Sachsenring. Jorge bites down on his tongue, the nausea bubbling up as he fights the urge to be sick. This is it. He knows that Dani would not endure a press conference alone for anything but a retirement announcement. He ignores the sting that Dani never told him, but he remembers that he hid the Honda news from him for so long. It’s probably payback. Jorge knows he shouldn’t go to the conference - but he can’t help himself, he’s not laid eyes on his husband for a few weeks. It’s strange to see Dani up there alone. He looks smaller than usual, dressed in his usual dark blue Honda gear, his wedding ring still gleaming in the light. Jorge feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of it on Dani’s finger.  
  
“Thank you all for being here...I would like to announce that next year I will not compete in the Championship,”  
  
Jorge feels the tears prick up in the corners of his eyes as he watches the man he loves sitting alone at the table, staring at all the journalists in front of him who watch on silently. He bites down on his tongue to stop the sob escaping, knowing that _ he’s _ the reason that Dani even has to sit in that seat in the first place.  
  
“Dani,” Jorge tries to corner the smaller man after the conference. “Dani, please,”  
  
“I’m sorry, Jorge. I can’t talk to you right now,” Dani murmurs apologetically, as he’s pulled away from presumably another interview by one of the Honda PR officers. 

Jorge watches him leave with a heavy heart, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he watches Dani walk away. He understands why Dani didn't say anything, but it still hurts that he made the decision without Jorge. He stumbles back into his motorhome, tears blurring his vision as he grabs a bottle from the mini fridge - he knows he’s not supposed to, not the race before a race but he’s passed caring. The alcohol stings his throat as he knocks it back, but he doesn’t care. He deserves it. Images of Dani swim in front of Jorge’s mind as he collapses on the bed, the sobs bubbling up as he swigs silently from the bottle. 

He’s not sure how long he lays there for - but it’s getting dark when he uncurls himself from between the sheets, rubbing a hand through his mussed hair. He goes to knock back the rest of the bottle, only to find it empty. Throwing the bottle to one side, he stands up on unsteady legs and staggers out of the bedroom, intent on finding the only person he wants to see.

* * *

  
Dani sighs heavily as he hears the incessant knocking on the door, knocking his head against the couch. “Leave me alone, Eric!”  
  
“I’m not Eric,” A familiar Italian drawl pipes up and Dani glances up to see Valentino standing in the doorway with his arms folded. The smirk grows on his lips as he takes in Dani’s attire. The hoodie is clearly one of Jorge’s - the grey material swamping the smaller man, Lorenzo’s Army dancing across the small of his back and the x-fuera painted over his heart. It feels apt, as Dani has had Jorge in his heart for as long as Valentino can remember.  
  
Valentino holds up a pack of beer. “Just came to check up on you, thought you might need a friendly face,”  
  
“Vale, it’s a race weekend,” Dani raises an eyebrow.  
  
“It’s non-alcoholic,” Valentino says with a wink as he sinks down onto the couch, next to the Spaniard. “How are you holding up?”  
  
“I’m okay,” Dani says, accepting the can from the taller Italian. Valentino watches him carefully, his shaking hands snapping open the ring-pull, they both move their cans towards one another, tapping them against each other for a moment before they both take a swig.  
  
They both collectively wince, Dani coughing a little as he pulls the bottle away from his lips.  
  
“Tastes like shit,” Valentino mutters, glaring at the bottle. “But it’s Marc’s so I don’t know what I expected,”  
  
“You’re not kidding,” Dani says, shaking his head.  
  
Silence drifts over the pair for a moment as Dani picks at the label on his beer bottle. “Why are you here, Vale?”  
  
Valentino fiddles with his earring for a moment, before he turns his blue eyes towards the younger man. “I wanted to see if you were alright. I always thought that I would retire before you.” He takes a sip from his bottle. “I just never expected to still be competing when you decided to hang up your leathers… I mean, it doesn’t seem two minutes ago, your tiny ass was in MotoGP wrestling that Honda around like a man possessed,”  
  
“It was the right decision. I had other offers, but I don’t want to do this anymore-”  
  
“And nobody judges you for that, you know? You don’t have to stay in MotoGP and feel obligated to go elsewhere,” Valentino’s tone is sympathetic. “And you know that Jorge will support you no matter what you choose-”  
  
Dani flinches at his husband’s name. “Vale-”  
  
“I know you’re angry at him and you have every reason to be. I get it, you feel betrayed by the person you trusted more than anyone in this world. And I understand that you’re hurting, you’re confused and you have to deal with this announcement without him,”  
  
“It just hurts,” Dani whispers, bowing his head. “I want to shake him and ask him what the fuck he was thinking. I would have understood if he had just told me from the beginning what was going on. It hurts knowing that he was lying to me for months before I lost my memories. I just thought I knew him-”  
  
“He fucked up,” Valentino’s voice is soft. “But just don’t give up on him until you’ve really thought about what you want,”  
  
Dani blinks back tears he didn’t realise he was shedding. “I know, but I’m just hurt. I don’t know what I want right now,”  
  
“That’s okay,” Valentino says, his expression the softest that Dani has ever seen on the older man. “It’s okay to take a little time. You’ve been through a lot in the last few weeks. I am just saying that I meant every word that I said at your wedding reception three years ago. I honestly don’t know two people more perfect for one another. He made a mistake, and he’s absolutely devastated over it. He never wanted to hurt you like this,”  
  
“I know,” Dani wipes away his eyes, frantically. “I just - I need some time to process everything. I just got my memories back and I’m trying to process everything he’s done over the last two weeks on top of that,”  
  
Valentino nods slowly. “There was another reason for me coming over tonight,” He worries his lip as he pulls an envelope out of his back pocket and hands it over to the smaller man.  
  
Dani raises an eyebrow at his and Jorge’s names written carefully on the ivory-coloured envelope. He opens it, and huffs at the confetti that falls from the inside of the card.  
  
_ Marc + Valentino invite you to their engagement party _  
  
Dani raises his eyes to meet Valentino’s gaze. “So you’re making it official then?” His gaze flickers over to the simple silver band around Valentino’s finger - it’s nothing like the giant yellow diamond that Marc has been flashing in everyone’s face since the beginning of the weekend - but Dani understands that it’s a huge thing for Valentino to wear something to signify his commitment.  
  
“It would mean a lot to Marc and I if you were to come. You don’t have to come with Jorge,”  
  
Dani nods once, a smile brushing over his lips. “Of course,”  
  
However, before Valentino can reply, there’s a hurried series of slams against the door of his motorhome.  
  
“Dani! Are you there?” Jorge’s slurred voice calls out from behind the door. “Dani! Please open the door!”  
  
Valentino curses under his breath. “He’s drunk,”  
  
“But it’s a race weekend-” Dani worries his lip. “What is he playing at?”  
  
“Hold on, I’ll speak to him,” Valentino says, pulling himself up to his full height. Dani can only follow the Italian silently as he wrenches the door open and watches his husband almost fall into Valentino’s chest, clearly inebriated. Valentino’s hands gently wrench Jorge away from his body, his eyes fixing on Jorge’s glassy green ones.  
  
“W-what are you doing here?” Jorge snaps at Valentino, his face darkening with anger.  
  
“Go back to your motorhome, Yorg. You have to sleep this off, Gigi is going to fucking kill you,” Valentino’s voice is patient and calm, his touch equally so as he gently tries to steer the angry Majorcan away from Dani.  
  
“I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken to Dani,” Jorge slurs, shaking his head as he tries to sidle out of Valentino’s grip.  
  
“Jorge-”  
  
“I want to speak to _ my husband_,” Jorge’s voice raises ever so slightly.  
  
Dani steps out from behind Valentino’s back and his heart aches at how utterly wrecked Jorge looks. His hair is mussed and his eyes are glassy, but they soften ever so slightly as they lock on him. “Dani-” Jorge whispers, his body melting against Valentino’s. “Dani,”  
  
“Go home, Jorge,” Dani whispers, focusing on his energy into not breaking down in front of the Majorcan. “Go home and sleep off whatever you drank,”  
  
“But Dani-”  
  
“Jorge, please. I promise, we will talk. Just - go,” Dani says, watching the fight in the glassy green eyes drain away and he slumps further against Valentino.  
  
“I’ll take him back to his motorhome,” Valentino says with a sigh, as he pulls Jorge’s elbow around his shoulder, trying to ignore the twinge in his back. Dani can’t keep his eyes off his husband, his eyes closed and his face slumped against Valentino’s chest.  
  
“Vale?” Dani says softly as Valentino turns to begin scaling down the stairs. “Will you take care of him?”  
  
The Italian nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Of course,”

* * *

  
Dani glances at himself in the mirror, pushing a hand through his hair as he surveys his shirt and jeans - he’s certain that he’s underdressed, but it is Marc and Valentino’s party that he is attending, so he’s sure that the pair of them will be overdressed enough for everyone. He bites down on his lip as he glances at the photo of himself and Jorge. He’s not spoken to Jorge since the night he drank himself silly and Valentino had ended up spending half the night trying to make him throw up. Valentino had sent him a photograph at 2AM of Jorge tucked up in his bed, dressed in what looks like an old hoodie of Dani’s, the 26 etched across his chest, which had only served to make Dani’s heart thud harder against his ribcage.  
  
He knows that Jorge will be there, and the thought of bumping into his husband at the party makes the anxiety that is sitting in the bottom of his stomach twist. Dani closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his gaze falling on the silver ring that still sits on his finger. Part of him, the rational side, tells him that he should take it off, but he knows deep down that he doesn’t want to. Sighing heavily, he straightens his shirt one last time before he picks up the keys to his rental car.  
  
Dani has been to the ranch before - but he’s never seen so many people before. He nods towards Cal, Aleix and Maverick all crowded around the punchbowl, spotting Luca, Alex and a bunch of the Academy boys necking shots in a state of undress and he swears that he even spots Uccio glaring from the corner. He grabs a glass of champagne from the bar and downs it in one, his eyes casting over the room for any sign of Jorge.  
  
“Dani,” Marc’s voice cuts through the dance music, and Dani suddenly finds his body crushed against his teammate’s. “I’m glad you could make it,” As Dani expected, Marc is overdressed compared to himself, his hair perfectly coiffed and his plum-coloured suit compliments his tanned skin. Dani doesn’t miss the neon-yellow buttons on his white shirt underneath, a nice nod to his future husband to be.  
  
“Of course, I had to see you make an honest man of Vale,” Dani says, returning the hug.  
  
Marc blushes. “It means a lot that you came, I know you weren’t the biggest fan of us together in the beginning,”  
  
Dani shakes his head. “I wasn’t. I know it’s been difficult for you, but he really does love you,”  
  
“I love him too,” Marc smiles, his thumb moving to ghost over the yellow diamond on his finger. “And I’m glad that you’re happy for us,”  
  
“He’s been looking our way for the last two minutes,” Dani says, glancing over to the taller Italian, smirking as Valentino once again tries to catch Marc’s eye.  
  
“I better go. Thank you again for coming, Dani,” Marc says with a smile before he disappears back into the crowd.  
  
Dani watches him go, making a beeline for Valentino. The Italian immediately curls his arm around Marc’s shoulder, allowing the smaller man to sink into his hold, pressing a small kiss against his cheek before he resumes talking. Dani’s thoughts immediately turn to Jorge. He still hasn’t seen the Majorcan and his heart thuds at the mere possibility.  
  
“May I have everyone’s attention,” Valentino calls out, and everything goes quiet as everyone stops to stare at the Italian, his arm still wrapped around Marc. “I would like to thank you all for coming today to celebrate Marc and I’s engagement. I know that many of you thought that it was a joke when you got your invite-” He levels a glare at Cal whilst the room titters in laughter. “But it’s very much real. Marc and I have been through so much together and I love him so much-” He pauses, smiling at the Spaniard. “He’s the missing piece of the puzzle that I’ve wanted to solve all my life and I never thought that part of me was missing until I met him-”  
  
Dani’s eyes suddenly lock with green ones that he knows better than anyone else.  
  
_ Jorge. _ _  
_ _  
_ “We have both made some mistakes,” Valentino continues, squeezing Marc’s shoulder. “And sometimes he drives me mad-”  
  
Jorge raises an eyebrow at Valentino’s words, and Dani can’t help but smile at the Majorcan’s expression.  
  
“But I couldn’t imagine my life without him,”  
  
Dani feels his heartbeat in his throat, his gaze locked with Jorge’s. He tears his glance away as he turns around, determined to leave the party. He shouldn’t have come, he tells himself, he shouldn’t have come tonight -  
  
“Dani,” A warm hand curls around his wrist. “Please, don’t go,”  
  
“Let go of me, Jorge,” Dani whispers, closing his eyes, not wanting to look into the Majorcan’s deep green gaze. “I shouldn’t have come-”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jorge says softly. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, and I get it if you never want to forgive me, I get it if you want to walk away - but I have never loved anyone like you,” Jorge pauses, his tongue wetting his lips. “I don’t think that I will ever love anyone the way I love you. And I know I’ve been a shit husband recently, I’ve lied to you, I’ve forced you to retire and I’m a fucking disaster, but I don’t think I can do this without you-”  
  
“You hurt me, Jorge, you were the one person I thought would never do this to me,”  
  
“And I regret that so much. If I could go back in time and change the past, I would - I wanted to tell you, but I was scared, Dani. I didn’t want to lose you,”  
  
“Jorge-”  
  
“And I know that I’m a fucking idiot and Vale is always telling me that I’m punching well above my weight and you could do so much better than me, and he’s right. But I love you and I want to be with you. I was so upset when you lost all your memories, because I feel like I lost you - but you got them back and then I ruined everything-”  
  
“I wouldn’t have got them back if it wasn’t for you, you helped me to remember,” Dani says, his heart wrenching at the sight of the tears glistening in Jorge’s eyes. “And you are a fucking idiot, but you’re _ my _ fucking idiot,”  
  
Jorge looks up at Dani, shock falling across his face. “What-”  
  
“Get over here, and kiss me, you fucking idiot,” Dani says, his own eyes damp with tears.  
  
Jorge wastes no time in closing the gap between himself and Dani, sealing their lips together in a passionate kiss, his hands fisting into the front of Dani’s shirt. As Jorge’s lips fall against his own, Dani can’t help but feel like he’s finally come home. He smiles into the kiss, gently pulling away as the applause erupts around them, his hand moving to gently brush against the engagement ring still hanging against Jorge’s neck.  
  
“I think I need it back,” He whispers, pressing another light kiss to Jorge’s lips.  
  
“You can have anything you want, Dani Pedrosa,” Jorge smiles, returning the kiss.  
  
“Dani Pedrosa-Lorenzo,”  
  
“Took you long enough,” Valentino calls out, there’s a smirk on his face but it’s softened by the presence of Marc leaning into his shoulder, their hands entwined. “But did you have to steal my thunder again Lorenzo?”  
  
“Wanna get out of here?” Jorge whispers, his green eyes locking with Dani’s brown.  
  
“Hell yes,” Dani murmurs, his hand folding around Jorge’s. “Let’s go home,”

* * *


End file.
